Bear Creek Gazette Prose Competition Winners

First Place


by Fahad Rahmat

Second Place

We Welcome Any and All Religious Signs,

Even the Unverifiable

by Kirsten Reneau

Third Place

Whistleberries at 5 o'clock 

by Lauren Suchenski

Fourth Place

Visit Lovely Lake Mars!

by Nicks Walker

Fifth Place

Local Residents Dying to Play New

'Scratch Me' Game

by Matt Hiebert

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"After a period of twenty-two years during which time Iorgo did not create art because of his paralyzing fear that ferrets would seek him out and defecate on his paint brushes, Mr. Valva went into a frenzied period of work that lasted until his death at age sixty-eight"

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Four Poems

James Knight

Photo - Inge Doumoulin


"I can see how you might be disappointed in me, how you might get outraged and come to my house with your pitchforks and tiki torches and wake me up in the middle of the night to murder me where I stand"

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The Grizzly Sunday Strip #3

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"If it weren’t for the surprise of his behavior I might have really leaned into this simulation idea like I was fucking crazy. But dad, well I come close to saying he was a husk, but it was different than that, almost as if he had always had one but was shed of it and underneath was this raw, vulnerable thing"

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Cryptids: Special Feature

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The Art of M.K Wilson


Two Poems

by Sam Pink

This one starts with a fuck no

to most everything


Love Measured in Rabbits

by Rosie Garland

You should see a doctor,’ says your sister. ‘Things shouldn’t come out of your bellybutton. 


A Sneak Peak at Gertrude's Gorgeous Garden

by Steve Neal

Once we exited the greenhouse, Gertrude beamed as she talked about the grand finale awaiting us 


Bear Creek Newcomers Telephone Directory

by Isla O'Neill

Please call Bear Creek Elementary for the janitorial position. They promised it to you long ago


Dear Abigatha

by Michael James

I’ve been with my husband for 25 years, and lately he’s seemed distant. Distracted. Can you suggest anything to bring the banana, so to speak, back into our relationship?


Gramma Lena’s Pumpkin Strudel

by Alex Woodroe

She liked to call it Graveyard Strudel, on account of where she’d get the pumpkin, and I’m gonna tell you more about that later


The Lines

by Jacob Browne

Many things doest hide within the blind spot. We knowest not. Cannot know. We canst but hope. Or feareth the worst. The worst terrors remaineth darkened 


Greenfingered Growths #2

by James C. Holland

Hello, my green-fingered friends! Spring is here! The bees are abuzzing and the worms have returned to their holes


Last Entries Forum

by Noa Covo

I did not know what I felt for the wasp girl at first. Finding yourself is difficult in this town


Weather and Shipping #3

by Zora Graves

I’ve heard it said that “decay is a slow process in a Bear Creek winter.” I don’t think this is truer anywhere than the cannery


Meeting People

by Aj Maiorana

"This can’t last forever,” he said, “when it all goes back to normal, I don’t wanna worry about the little things I did


Moonlight Special

by Tiffany Belieu

My entrance tonight is heralded by a few chimed bars of The Monster Mash. A little something for the human clientele looking for some entertainment with their shopping. 


Papa's Lips

by Tyler Dempsey

This box was different, than how it, on the outside, looked, as Mama reached her hand inside. In fact—what Mama pulled up, was bigger, than what, on the outside, this box was.


Plum Brandy

by Clio Velentza

They crawl under the bed: one face, one pair of bodies, one bottle of plum brandy


Poison Control

by Charles Hermesmann

As much as she hated having a son, and as much as she refused to believe in the existence of God, Martha began to pray on her knees every night—not for Thomas, but to Thomas: the Boy Master of Death


Review of Mark Wilson's Powerpoint Eulogy

by Gabriel Hart

    I couldn’t help it — I started crying right there in the library. Not that I really cared about this fictional character — it was almost as if I felt trapped in my own country, shackled to the American death march


Cannibal (CW - Raw Meat)

by Coleman Bomar

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