I am told I was a happy, mischievous kid who smeared peanut butter on walls. Insatiably curious, I would sit down next to strangers on buses and start up conversations. I have heard that I liked to make people laugh. I don’t remember any of this.
Featured Nonfiction
The Trembling Nasties
Smoking with Art
by Patricia Feinman
Our hair and every piece of clothing we owned were impregnated with the stench of smoke—we stank of smoke—but we didn’t care, because we loved smoking.
I Lines
by Bobby Crace
The words surrounding an “I” form sentences that can be referred to as “I Lines.” A person knows how to be an “I” before they know what an “I” is.
Year-End Wrap-Up: The MAYDAY Editors’ Books of the Year
Looking for book recommendations? To celebrate the end of the year, the MAYDAY editorial staff shares the books they read and revisited in 2021.
Murmurations (I): First Memory of Birds
by Heather Bartel
Is a family portrait still a family portrait when a family is missing the mother?
Made Easy
by Venus Noirre
“I was pimped out by an acquaintance when I was at my most vulnerable. It may come across I’m cavalier with this, but I’m not. I’ve just let the shame of it all go.”
The Boy Is Now an Obituary
by Alyse Bensel
What killed him has been excised from the obituary. It exists in the blank space along the margins. Because it is easier to say died than overdosed.
You Seem Really Lonely
by Sage Tyrtle
For two weeks I wish Marta dead. With every breath I take in. I am not proud of this.
GROCERY STORE ARTIST
by Joshua Gottlieb-Miller
Within our disorienting, indefinite pandemic, the lonesome invisibility of retail workers has become ironized by their initial hyper-visibility.
Persian Night
by Douglas Cole
She placed a cup of the hot elixir on the counter before me. On the surface of the cup little dragonfish swirled around like visual laughter. I felt my stomach tighten and my heart speed up. Here we go . . .
