![]() ![]() At night he could feel the souls of all the dead hogs pressing on his chest, pressing down on his ribcage like something real.” Good Acres was about the only place in the county that’d hire anyone with a record, and Nolan made twelve dollars an hour killing roughly five thousand animals a shift, five shifts a week. “He was a felon, Nolan, and had gotten the job at Good Acres Foods the year before because the sticker before him had lost a thumb from a hog kicking the blade back against his hand. That’s apparent in this excerpt from the story “Their Souls Climb the Room”: Equal parts haunted, hilarious, and deeply human, Rosson’s stories straddle genres while maintaining a distinctive, jagged voice. These quandaries propel the pages of Folk Songs for Trauma Surgeons, the recently published first short story collection by Portland novelist Keith Rosson. ![]() ![]() A chain smoking tooth fairy wonders what to do when she witnesses child abuse. An ex-Nazi works as the muscle for a revivalist cult on the road. God sends the four horsemen of the Apocalypse on a team building retreat aboard a cruise. ![]()
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