Lockstep, seat to seat jotting pseudonyms. Do we like the same books? Have you ever collapsed in public? The sly comic calling starts and stops…

The nubs of the gears lick one another, a succession interlocking into pure momentum, drive, and the world revolves Around which runes will we trace…

Roberta had a dream that you had died A negligent conductor of a train Decided to jump the tracks by your house And –– boom!…

Fiction. The box was cardboard, worn and frayed and the top still neatly in place. I recognized immediately the now pale logo of some long…

Fiction. Mr. Jackson lets me take hold of the handles, turns it on, and electricity seems to shoot up my arms. My hands tingle and…

Nonfiction. “I had a good day,” Michelle says to me on the phone. “For once.” It’s always the little things: the funny guy at the…

Fiction.  Sweet Baby yells “Mommy, look at me” as she leaps so high she could take flight. Even though they attend dance class every day,…

River & South Review is a student-run literary journal. We seek new work by emerging writers of any age who have not gone on to a…