In this month’s edition of New Writing on the Net, a man pursues a woman while a tumor takes up space in his skull; two friends raise an improbable fish; an older woman reflects on growing her life and the white space in between. These, and other lingering stories, are curated by reader Rebecca Paredes for your September reading list.
“Lawrence the Enormous” by Chelsea Baumgarten | The Sun, September 2021
“Lawrence thought of Diane’s new husband, how he’d removed his shoes at the door when he’d come to fetch her things. Somehow, this was more insulting than if he’d tromped dirt on the rug. Lawrence thought, too, of the dishes. To ‘hold him over,’ Diane had left one of everything. He’d never gotten around to buying his own set. Often, he washed his plate three times per day.”
“Kun” by Star Su | Porter House Review, September 13, 2021
“The new tank was beautiful. It seemed alive, channels of electricity and bleached light leapt across the carpet braided with rainbow trim, swallowing the crib that now seemed so small. The glass was warm to the touch, hot even, the temperature of a fever. Peng Peng said that this was normal, the fish needed tropical water, fish this beautiful were born from volcanoes. They were practically volcanoes themselves, molten in color. I nodded, set my hand on the glass. Kun didn’t seem to notice me, didn’t come to touch the tips of my fingers as it had when it was the two of us, swaddled in the closet.”
“Autobiography” by Karin Lin-Greenberg | Wigleaf, September 5, 2021
“Before that, Edward was still alive. He was a good husband, agreeable in every way. Maybe too agreeable. My daughter called him an enabler, said I always had to have my way in life because I was so used to getting my way, always, at home. ‘Grow a spine,’ she yelled at him the last time we saw her, before she shut the door on us forever.”
“First Moments Through a Looking Glass” by Audrey Burges | Cease, Cows, September 2, 2021
“I am an exhausted laundry list of risks tick-tick-ticked beneath the heading ‘geriatric pregnancy.’ I am a wrinkled womb perched on rickety chicken feet inside this plump raisin of a body, my bloodshot eyes and banshee-tangled hair reflecting back from the portal on the wall, but it’s too late to ask them to cover it.”
“Bride School Girls” by Amanda Churchill | Hobart, September 20, 2021
“The Church Girls were nice and met often, a group within a group. They learned English a little faster, perhaps. Their husbands seemed a little more lenient, maybe more understanding. Thus, Akemi had wondered if this Jesus really did help people out. That’s why she kept the King James Holy Bible out on the table. Maybe Jesus would float from it and make her love her husband, make this marriage worth being shunned by her family, who steamed open the envelopes, removed the cash, and then returned all her letters, the sharp crease still in place, the words unread.”
curated by Rebecca Parades