HeyJaredShaenrayce Leigland
I was born in Western Montana and studied English Literature from the University of Montana. My debut novel, May We One Day Pick All the Shrapnel From Our Hearts was published in 2020 by Tailwinds Press. In my Substack, I share my flash fiction.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 13
- Latest publication
- Sep 26, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 5, 2026
Latest issues
The Sapphire in the Crown (opens the original)
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The subway car came to a shuddering stop. Raheem pulled his headphones down and listened. This early on a Saturday morning there was nobody but him and two other people in the car: A bleary-eyed man that looked to be heading home after a night out rather than going into work and a woman in a red shawl who had up to that moment been working on embroidery. The bleary-eyed man looked to Raheem, as if the young black man had answers. Raheem shrugged. Pulling out his telephone, Raheem started texting
A Bridge Too Far (opens the original)
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There was a time when I, having written several well-received articles in magazines and one best‑selling psychology book, believed I had figured it all out. My research focused on intergenerational dynamics, and more specifically how sons interact with their fathers. I didn’t need the countless hours I had spent with focus groups and poring over 300+ question surveys. After all, I had lived experience. From a little boy, any school art project, any good report card only elicited a scant grunt fr
How to Ruin a Life (opens the original)
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Emily had tried to call Kendall once, a few days after the incident. She dialed her parents’ landline (they still had one of those—they were weird) and introduced herself as another classmate to Kendall’s father. He hung up.These days, Emily stayed in her room with her head under her pillow staring at her brother’s old iPad. Hers had been taken away. This one was a crack on the screen, and it couldn’t even send texts. She couldn’t install Netflix or Tiktok. She could watch YouTube, but barely. I
What Remains (opens the original)
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From one of my grandfather’s trunks, I pull out a small mahogany music box and set it on a table. A small ballerina rises up when I open the lid. I search in the trunk for the key to wind it up, but I cannot find it. When I twist the ballerina around with my fingers, and a tune plays out of rhythm. The music is familiar. It touches the back of my mind in places I hadn’t used in a long time. Something by Brahms, I think. I put this in the container for the things I wanted to keep.I go through mor
Sanctuary (opens the original)
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When Heather was overwhelmed, when she was angry, when she needed to scream out loud where no one could hear her, she escaped to the observatory. The building had been closed for years. The great domes now yawned empty, their telescopes carried away by cranes. It was all bones now.The observatory was a short walk from her parent’s house. Up a hill and along a small path overgrown by weeds. A chain link fence was supposed to keep out people like her, but she was crafty, she knew the hidden ways,
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