Fiction | December 10, 2012
I met the trickster in a chat room when I was sixteen. Turned out he was in high school with a friend of mine. She didn’t know him, she said. But she’d seen him pack himself inside a locker once, said he’d laughed for an hour straight in class until the teacher made him leave, and then he’d walked outside and stood on the other side of the classroom window, still laughing, his face pale, his hair pulled up and split by the wind and rain.
This story is not currently available online.
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 Today
SEE THE ISSUE
35.3 (Fall 2012): "Risk"
Featuring work by Lauren Acampora, Michale Byers, John J. Clayton, Ewa Hryniewicz-Yarbrough, Kate Rutledge Jaffe, Margaree Little, Carolyn Miller, Christopher Robinson, Tryfon Tolides… as well as a look at the life of Louise Brooks and an interview with T.R. Hummer.
Jan 07 2022
PinelandJason Brown 1966 Dear Lemuel, For me, all the consequential decisions are in the past, except, as you will see, the decision to write this letter. You may rest assured
Jan 07 2022
ReclamationDevin Murphy My whole life I’ve had this feeling at my core that people wouldn’t remember me from one meeting to the next and was surprised, even touched, if they
Jan 06 2022
The Last Reported Sighting of the European Goldfinch
The Last Reported Sighting of the European Goldfinch in MichiganDavid M. Sheridan When my friend Essa said, some years ago, that she had become a “birder,” I couldn’t place the