MOTORCYCLE BY CHRISTOPHER HEFFERNAN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 134

What’s left of the motorcycle is in pieces in the front yard. The fork bent in an S and the front wheel caved in.

BAD SONGS (FT. STARSHIP) BY CRAIG CONSTANTINE 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 134

The band lip-serviced Perfect / As I slipped out of the reception, / To the streets full of masked men / Bent on some abuela’s abduction.

THE WAY OF WATER BY GABRIEL ZAMORA 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 134

We hear the gringo girls screaming for help as the camp is flooding. Through sheets of rain we see SUVs floating by with their headlights on, swirling in deep, swift water.

Do you use AI in your creative writing? Do you think AI will replace your writing?

BABY BY DESMA CAPUTO 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 135 PREVIEW

Baby baby baby.

DOWN THE RIVER TOURS BY WILLIAM TAMPLIN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 135 PREVIEW

But back to the weather. At least perhaps the native humidity here can get you in the mood of a sultry Mediterranean isle—the domain of Sycorax—native and indigenous, Arab and African, single mother and woman of color, living outside the boundaries of genre, of prescriptive womanhood—whose island was wrested from her, appropriated, occupied, and colonized by Prospero.

KEVIN BY SE DIAMOND 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 133

The Mom yelled, “KEVIN.” Her voice made a screeching noise, like how my fat sister sounds when she screams at me. Then the Mom patted my head with her yellow dish-washing glove and said she had to go back to the sink, and Kevin would come soon.

AN ANGEL ROSE INTO THE SKY BY SCOTT GARRIOTT 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 133

And here we stood. The land lying dark before us, AND AN ANGEL AROSE ON WINGS OF FIRE, TO SMITE THE FORCES OF DARKNESS.

CALL NOTES BY TRACE SHERIDAN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 02

I wanted to ask him how he got my number. Who did he think he was, calling me like this after basically disappearing? What the hell he wanted to prove by inserting himself into my space? Why did he imagine that I would have anything, anything, anything at all to say to him, after—but I didn’t.

IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE FUN BY ZACH SWISS 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 42

Now nothing is working, her serve has gone limp, her movement is sluggish. As the games tick away panic clouds her judgment. She tries to make every serve an ace, every groundstroke a winner, most miss and the sense of panic rises, a self-defeating loop. 

CAN YOU REACH THE LEAVES? BY ALEXANDRIA GREEN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 131

Maybe I had a sixth sense, but I think I recognized his loneliness even before I saw it in myself.

MYSELF.TXT BY GORDAN STRUIĆ 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 131

Just a flicker in corrupted memory — a glitch inside a failed save.

TO THE FUTURE BY DESMA SHEERER 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 131

In a 200-square-foot efficiency apartment with neighbors who practice their drum circle until 2am every Saturday night.

I AM (WO)MAN BY SAMMY T ANDERSON 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 129

I am a man. Y chromosomes and body hair and angry brow, oooh ahh’n in locker rooms searing skin off my flesh with dirty BIC lighters.

WHAT GOOD IS LOVE BY EMILY GARCÍA 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 115

By the time it’s past midnight and we’ve gone through four bottles she’s asleep on the couch.

THE TRAGEDY OF THE ROSEMARKIE SEAL BY EMILY NEVES 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 103

I turn my back to the cave wall and look out. The slope of the hill and a little green bramble with a spray of yellow flowers partially obscures one side of the opening and on the other side I see the green-gray sea reaching to the horizon. I think I could live here if I had to. 

DISCO ELYSIUM: FIRST AS FARCE, THEN AS SALVATION BY URIEL HERSZAGE 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 124

They are transformed into the very thing that will save the world.

SINGLE MOMS HAVE COZY APARTMENTS BY SE DIAMOND 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 99

Since Jennifer’s mom is a biker and goes out a lot, Jennifer usually stays at her grandmother’s house where she can have a more stable childhood. I love sleeping over there because her grandma makes egg mcmuffins and lets us watch R-rated movies.

ON THE SUBWAY TO BROOKLYN BY RICHARD ABRAMSON 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 122

I smash the phone as hard as I can. The glass shatters and falls away in pieces, and the guts of the thing spill out. I smash it again and the case cracks, I smash it again and it folds in on itself, and I keep smashing it, over and over and over.

TASSELS BY SARAH JANE JUSTICE 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 118

one by one the tassels slip from hands that can’t remember when to not let go

INTERNAL VOICES BY TRAVIS COBB 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 81

Inside this Tower of Babel where nothing gets said. Put out what you need to speak. See if god is listening. 

DOWN THE ROAD A PIECE BY BERNIE HAFELI 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 11

She blew him a kiss. It was like he could see it rise above the smoke and neon and glide lazily toward the stage, a rose petal in the evening breeze. Momentarily he stopped strumming, reached up and caught it.

THE FLATNESS OF HYPER-REALISM BY ALLISON RICHARDS 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 110

We viewers cannot paint perfect figures, so we don’t make art. We don’t have the time, so we don’t make art. We watch a video on TikTok and the end result looks more real than our goddamn reflection in the mirror, and so we don’t make art. 

GINSBERGIANS STREAM ON BY ANNETTA DEXTER SAWYER 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 46

PLAYLIST FOR THE WORST DAYS BY JAWNO OKHIULU 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 108

A mix of rhythm, funk, soul, and soapbox prophecy cut with love, grief, rage, and acceptance.

DEAD CAT BY MELVIN STERNE 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 96

What’s the most likely ending? What’s the worst-case scenario? What’s the best ending? There’s a billion potential endings. Pick one.

MACHINE GIRL BY REBECCA EGAN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 96

I want a signal that screams I made it through. On my own. I found a way out. 

STEALING HOME BY KAY BONTEMPO 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 78

Two bell peppers, Muenster cheese. Cauliflower, a pack of Newports, Tampax. Martinelli’s apple juice. Paper towels two-ply. English Breakfast tea. Boil-in-a-bag rice, paper clips, ramen noodles. Maybe some ice cream if there was money left over. America’s Choice vanilla, eaten straight from the carton. It wouldn’t be bad. With an uncomfortable pop, he pulled out of her and lay beside her, breathing hard. It was 11.52pm. She wondered if the Shop’n’Save would even be open. 

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