MQR 38:1 – Michigan Quarterly Review

MQR 38:1

“The Bridesmaid,” by Bonnie Jo Campbell

I felt no fear, though my legs were thin, hardly bigger than the barrel of the gun, and my arms were strained. I felt no fear at the prospect of shooting this man, of watching his body crumple, then dragging the corpse inside, quickly so the heat didn’t escape from the house.

“The Bridesmaid,” by Bonnie Jo Campbell Read More »

I felt no fear, though my legs were thin, hardly bigger than the barrel of the gun, and my arms were strained. I felt no fear at the prospect of shooting this man, of watching his body crumple, then dragging the corpse inside, quickly so the heat didn’t escape from the house.

“What I Want to Tell: A Sequence of Rooms,” by Michael Martone

It is like a pen held to paper, this story I have to tell, the stain of ink spreading, the color deepening everywhere all at once. And I have no words, no means to make them tell.

“What I Want to Tell: A Sequence of Rooms,” by Michael Martone Read More »

It is like a pen held to paper, this story I have to tell, the stain of ink spreading, the color deepening everywhere all at once. And I have no words, no means to make them tell.

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