Jennifer A. Weigand
Subscribe for updates on my novel and short stories as well as a free printable bookmark set (peek at it in the "Free Bookmarks" tab below)!
Published Short Stories
"What We Store Deep in Drawers" - Honorable mention in Creation Magazine's The Midnight Hour Anthology, published February 9, 2025
Link: https://indd.adobe.com/view/cf8a51fd-72bc-435e-a358-2636fe44d6b9
"Enough" - Five Minutes, published June 2, 2025
Link: https://www.fiveminutelit.com/enough
"Its Smile" - The 100 Word Project from Manawaker Studio, published June 8, 2025
Link: https://www.patreon.com/posts/100-word-project-130866857
(publication in yearly print anthology pending)
"The Elephant Between Us" - Livina Press: Issue 13, published July 26, 2025
(see below for online reprint of this story)
Additional short stories are currently being submitted. Updates will be posted when available.
Published Poetry
"esTEEM" - Pfudalmda Dadamag, published spring 2025
Link (scroll via arrows to find Jennifer's submission): https://www.pfudalmda.xyz/issues/lofve
Additional poems are currently being submitted. Updates will be posted when available.
Upcoming Novel
Main characters in their late 30's
Medical conditions
Themes of quality of life, decisions we make
Jennifer will be seeking representation / traditional publication for this novel. More information to come when drafting is complete.
__________________________________________
Reprinted Pieces (otherwise published in print)
"The Elephant Between Us" - first published in Livina Press: Issue 13 on July 26, 2025
It wasn’t my fault. Not that he believes that.
As I inhale through my mouth to stifle the stench, the essence of sunbaked straw defiantly creeps over my tongue, expands, and clings to the back of my throat.
He chose this place to rile me. We could have perched in separate corners of our faded, red couch, him splayed and scowling while I tucked my knees to my chest. An ineffective attempt to conceal the shaking notebook pages.
He insisted, though. Said he’d go alone if I didn’t come. Like he knew how waiting to have this discussion crawled up my ribs, swept its hands over my chest and wrapped them around my throat. Am I that transparent? Or did three years of intricately mapping the hallways of my being allow him to anticipate my responses?
I dislodge my phone from my jeans as a screech tears through the air. My body jolts, and he raises an eyebrow. Inquiring? Mocking? I’m a poor cartographer.
In front of us, a mound of pink cotton candy mopes dejected on the pavement, and a toddler grips a white cardboard cone as she bawls. Dark hair swings over a woman’s shoulders as she bends down, hushing, and sputters about rushing to the lion exhibit.
My partner’s summer slick arm slides against mine as I raise my phone. Is partner still a fitting term?
Either way, the moisture is disgusting. But shifting will only increase his suspicion.
“Smile,” he says. I try. Our reflected selves reveal stretching lips and expressions that halt at our cheekbones. Did we look like this before last night?
“Can’t we just talk about it?” I ask. We used to let our woes hang heavy in the humid air between us without walking away in search of a more formidable climate. When did that change?
A mosquito’s whine circles my ears as his emerald eyes stare, irises so frozen that if I hammered them, they’d shatter into countless pieces. Maybe then I could recombine them, a morbid gemstone jigsaw puzzle, and he’d see my perspective.
Perhaps that’s the solution. I have to say more or succumb to this stalemate.
I’ve never begged. But we’re stranded in a deluge of “if only” while lacking ponchos. He can’t walk away. I can’t let him. This expedition will persist. How can I continue on without his map of me?
“Please,” I whisper.
“Get the elephant in the photo,” he says, tipping his head to reveal the swinging trunk.
Why? It’s already stepping on my heart.
___