Fiction | March 01, 1979
Aeaea
Jascha Kessler
This story is not currently available online.
The Three Virgins, they called us at Vassar. I don’t know, even now, if we were wise or foolish. But we’ve each seen something of life: one in New York, one in Chicago, and one in Beverly Hills. We meet up often enough, passing over this wide wilderness, to and from on the career trails, the marriage and separation trails, wandering from sacking and slaughter with our booty, from conquest and humiliations, wedding banquets and sanatoria, fatfarms, dude ranches and communes, islands en route, and adventures.
If you are a student, faculty member, or staff member at an institution whose library subscribes to Project Muse, you can read this piece and the full archives of the Missouri Review for free. Check this list to see if your library is a Project Muse subscriber.
Want to read more?
Subscribe TodaySEE THE ISSUE
SUGGESTED CONTENT
Fiction
Aug 19 2021
The Body Was There
The Body Was There Shakarean Hutchinson Six months later she was pregnant. The curves of her hips opened up; her breast grew heavy. The blue cotton dress, the dye fading… read more
Fiction
Aug 19 2021
The Burial
The Burial Samantha Xiao Cody In the days after Mr. Huang was arrested for killing his son, we began seeing the dog everywhere. The Huang house was swarmed with reporters… read more
Fiction
Aug 19 2021
Heart-Scalded
Heart-Scalded Daphne Kalotay for Jude Twilight’s hazy glow, the world covered in gray lint. Viv hailed a ride and set out toward the crumbling edge of town. Though it… read more