Dylan Martin

“Speed Dating” by Dylan Martin

Submitted to Contest #237

The bar/restaurant (breastaurant?) is packed. From the entrance, it looks fairly standard: a long piano black bar takes up the right side of the room, while a few tables are scattered around the open area to the left. It’s a small bar, fairly common for the city. Only when you make your way to the end of it can you see its true scale (which only a fool would call small in Midtown). There, where you first thought was the back, a pillar dressed in wallpaper from the Victorian era reveals there to be an area twice as big behind it.  The ri...

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“Active Shooter” by Dylan Martin

The only sound in the house is that of the bullets being fired. It comes from the living room, the center of the space, where a teenage boy sits on a sofa, playing a game. The room is like any other: a gray couch covering the center, two matching chairs on both ends, a TV across, a rug in between. It is normal, no different from any other image of suburbia. Just a boy passing the time, taking the edge off, with some eas...

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“The Man, The Myth, The Legend” by Dylan Martin

Submitted to Contest #233

Monday, January 1st, 2024 Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self preservation. AUDRE LORDE ☀ I am grateful for… 1. Not being hungover. Okay…that’s a lie. Not being as hungover as I thought* 2. No work 3. This dick! I don’t know, TV? Daily Affirmation

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“The People v Reece Leach” by Dylan Martin

Submitted to Contest #230

Case Number: 010147858 Date: 24 July 2023 NAME OF DECEASED: Madelyn Leach, Female, 41, White CAUSE OF DEATH: Anaphylactic Shock NATURE OF DEATH: Accidental, Possible Homicide PRIMARY SUSPECT: Reece Leach, Male, 12, White ADDRESS OF OCCURRENCE:

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“No Place Like Home” by Dylan Martin

Submitted to Contest #227

“It always amazes me, the magic that can be made from doing something as simple as dropping asbestos from the sky.” “What’s that, dear?” “Look,” she says, pointing out the window, towards the sight of the season’s first snowfall, “we must be doing the poppy scene today.” “That’s snow, honey.” “Darling,” she says, turning to him, “it is the middle of Jul...

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“Dinner With My Better Self” by Dylan Martin

Submitted to Contest #225

Who the fuck owns a home in Brooklyn? And in Greenpoint? What a slap in the face. Here I am, slaving away at this meaningless sales job, just trying to find a studio in my budget—a single room!—and this asshole owns an entire address doing God knows what. Can you imagine placing a delivery order and not giving them an apartment number? No way this guy is leaving the house for takeout. H...

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