Fiction | September 28, 2020
On the Western Bride
Bruce McKay
I’d been pinheading on a fishing boat called the Western Bride—scrubbing and prepping so I could fish for free—and that winter I’d made deckhand. This was when I was living in a cousin’s apartment on Adams in Huntington Beach, sleeping in the front room on the understanding that I went out and did my business and didn’t bother anybody with my problems.
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