• Doug Lawson

    The Night Witches

    Months before the fire—the big one that cuts up through the homes in our hills like a plane through a flock of doves—I see Rochelle in the street. It’s a Sunday. She has her hand in some guy’s pock­et. Her hair is paler than I remem­ber it, and it hangs down around her face like she still cuts it her­self. She is tanned, bro­ken-in, like she’s been liv­ing out­doors all these years.

  • Kate Axelrod

    So Long

    Ana grinned as she walked toward him, weav­ing her way through the heavy traf­fic of Canal Street. Michael smiled and pre­tend­ed to look some­thing up on his phone. It was late May but Manhattan felt like a desert that day; blind­ing sun­light and a dry, brit­tle kind of heat.

  • Claudia Cadavid


    She, who nev­er asks for any­thing, point­ed to the dis­play case and said, “I want this.”  It was a porce­lain Christmas fig­urine, noth­ing short of a glazed mon­u­ment.  As a cen­ter­piece, it would over­take most of a din­ner table.  Santa Claus was sculpt­ed into a Mexican cow­boy, with spurred boots, som­brero, and a black mus­tache.  Mexican Santa sat high on a blan­ket sad­dle and held the reins of a red-nosed bur­ro, lift­ed onto its hind legs, tri­umphant­ly car­ry­ing them to the North Pole.  Like all Santas, his cheeks were rud­dy and his smile jovial.  Cargo hung off the burro’s flank, bulging with dolls and oth­er children’s toys.   My father bought it for my moth­er imme­di­ate­ly, because she had asked.

  • Stephanie Leary

    Future Mistakes

    Raisa Kolbe cast a wor­ried stare through the glass par­ti­tion at the only swad­dled new­born not cry­ing.  Baby Boy Arturo’s eyes focused on the ceil­ing as if he were send­ing up his prayers before the inevitable hap­pened.  Raisa tapped on the glass in an attempt to rouse him but only suc­ceed­ed in gar­ner­ing the atten­tion of the nurse.

    Raisa point­ed to the baby and mouthed, “Is he okay?”

  • Summer Issue Has Arrived

    A spe­cial issue edit­ed by James Whorton, the Summer 2015 num­ber begins now. Please stay tuned. We will be post­ing this issue between July and October 2015.


  • More More More

    2005-08-10 14.48.58

    Let’s hear it for Dylan Smeak!  Maron Tate! Paige Clark! Three new and splen­did pieces added to this Endless Spring issue of NWW.

  • 3 New Pieces for Spring

    Up today we have three new sto­ries–Emily Eckart, Anna Hagen, and Karen Wunsch. More to come.

  • Spring 2015

    2010-01-26 02.28.41Curated/edited by Jared Hegwood, the Spring num­ber starts now, includ­ing work from Andy Plattner, Alex Higley, Erin Armstrong, Nellie Aberdeen, Paul Luikart, P.J.Underwood, and Tracie Dawson, among oth­ers. Please stayed tuned.

  • New Winter Pieces

    We’ve expand­ed our hold­ings for the win­ter issue, adding new work by Andrew Rhodes, Ellis Purdie, Fortunato –more

  • Winter 2015

    We have begun to assem­ble the Winter 2015 issue under the watch­ful eye of Associate Editor Elizabeth Wagner. We will be read­ing and adding work for this issue through March 2015, so please keep us in mind for your sub­mis­sions. Click –more

  • Fall Issue


    We’ve expand­ed the fall issue and will con­tin­ue adding mate­r­i­al through December 2014. The issue is select­ed and edit­ed by Pia Ehrhardt, author of Famous Fathers (MacAdam/Cage, 2007). Her work has also appeared in Narrative –more

  • Late Summer Reading

    We’ve added new things for the sum­mer issue. JoAnna Novak’s won­der­ful “Five Minutes with the Baby,” Zvezdana Rashkovich’s “How to Love a Man in Cairo,” and Richard Lange’s “Instinctive Drowning Response.”

  • Chloe Poizat

    A gallery of images by the French illus­tra­tor Chloe Poizat.

  • Now Read This

    Anne Gorricktumblr_mtmwtgziej1s4s1x2o1_1280 Three Poems
    Will Clingan Disappeared
    Barbara Hamby Three Poems
    James Robison The Late Style
    Rupprecht Mayer Three Stories
  • New Issue


    Click Summer 2014 or use the main menu. Note that we con­tin­ue to read new mate­r­i­al for the issue–fiction, poet­ry, non­fic­tion, any­thing else, what­ev­er you have, short –more