From the Editors

Dear Readers, In 2013, Interfictions launched this online journal, bringing new genre-bending fiction, non-fiction, poetry and everything in-between to a global audience, with three issues published in the first twelve months. This past year, the Interstitial Arts Foundation asked for help to…

Lust for Love (5)

Susan Rukeyser

Photography, Words: Susan Rukeyser

Music:”Atlantean Twilight” by Kevin Macleod (incompetech.com)

licensed under creative commons: by attribution 3.0, creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0

art

Artist Susan Rukeyser’s piece “Lust for Love (5)” is a collection of five hybrid photography/spoken word tone poems exploring the tension created by images that imperfectly match the words spoken over them. The piece populates the negative space between the…

Touch

Debbie Urbanski

fiction

This was to be the celebration of a lifetime. That’s what we were told anyway. Even the hynies had come out to watch. They huddled on the corner in their ugly robes, hoods up, though they weren’t supposed to gather…

Vulturism

Genevieve Valentine

nonfiction

  Someone had turned in six albums to the store, thick as dictionaries, each full to bursting with slivered photos askew in their pockets. There were eight or nine of every setup; Chester the photographer took no chances. Each was…

Witches of Childhood

Gwynne Garfinkle

poetry

The comfort of the sitcom witches with their laugh tracks, sixties dresses and twinkly music. When I have the flu, my mom wheels the TV into my bedroom so I can watch. Samantha Stephens twitches her nose, and the vacuum…

Mothers

Carmen Maria Machado

fiction

Here she is, on the porch, all straw-hair and slumpy joints and a crack that passes through her lip like she is dirt that has never known rain. In her arms is a baby: genderless, red, not making any sort…

Otherwise, Ferguson

Ashon Crawley

nonfiction

Otherwise. Otherwise than this. To begin here in the otherwise, as the otherwise, is to pose a question about tears born in dreams. Ever wake with tears in your eyes? Or down your cheek? Those tears serve memorial. Those tears…

Ahas, Tala

M Sereno

poetry

My stars are not your stars. This is what I would say to you, first. Your stars are not my stars. I am a child of driftwood and sunstruck flood, of strangled song, eaten spears. Of monsters drowned in storm.…

Isaiahs at the Diner

Matthew Lattanzi

fiction

The police arrived at the diner, bearing news of my husband’s death. I brewed coffee behind the counter while my husband checked his vitals. It turned out he was very much alive. He tried to explain this to the officers,…

Dark Light

John Serreno

poetry

There is no key, just an infinite number of doors turned inside out, each one creating a black hole full of white noise and closing into empty dreams where doves die forgotten on rotten limbs and their songs are unsung…