All posts by Monk Eastman

No Thumbnail

What You Aren’t Most

In the sepia twilight, shuffling past crude signs advertising sex in every flavor but love, he came to her. She helped him off with his sweat-soaked shirt, filthy slacks, and mud-caked boots; lay him on the mattress, and climbed atop. “The factory is closing,” he

No Thumbnail

Dogs.

Beneath the red neon halo of promise, Elmer rubbed his hands together at the prospect of murder. “He ain’t comin”, Gantry said. “Shut up,” Elmer snapped. “He’s comin’. Every morning, he shows up. Feeds the bums before the early morning rush.” “‘Early morning rush’?” Gantry

No Thumbnail

The World To Come

Yossel looked out the plexiglass dome at the blasted landscape, sighed, and came back down the ladder. “How’s it look?” Debbie asked. Yossel shuffled over to the stainless steel kitchenette, poured himself some plastic, airless water from the purifier, and sipped thoughtfully. “Well?” Debbie prodded.

No Thumbnail

The Empty Swing

Glass of water stared at him from the kitchen table. Baruch’s reflection wrapped its surface, a collection of unhealthy pale features buried in a sprawling black beard. One hand stroked his beard, while his hands traced the tefillin nervously under the table. Occasionally, he made

No Thumbnail

Magnetic Letters

Allie looks up and sees his brother’s spelled out W-O-L-F. “Good job, Artie,” he mumbles. Gapes at Artie for a while. His brother’s reverted to an innocence that predates their relationship. Even when they were kids, Artie played grown-up. Foraging for their food, protecting little