Microfiction by Jennifer Novotney
The Art Gallery I pop into the art gallery lined with textured paintings of the seaside. The artist greets me as she works wielding a …
The Metaworker Literary Magazine
Where great stories are forged.
The Art Gallery I pop into the art gallery lined with textured paintings of the seaside. The artist greets me as she works wielding a …
I didn’t always know I was a woman. That’s one of the myths – that every trans person knows it from Day One. I guess …
I clutch Dad’s oak tree leg. He reads the congregation my pre-baptism testimony. Seems myheart rejects sin, especially finger-painting my bedroom during Sunday naptime. But …
My finger banged on the tiny doorbell. I paced back and forth trying not to fall off the tiny step. Finally, the door slowly creaked …
Sam Karrington’s size-six loafers kicked back and forth atop the wooden bench under the train stop awning. The train would be here soon, he thought—no …
Peg had made good on her resolution to leave West Virginia, and here he was in San Francisco, seasonless though it was Spring, sleeping on …