The Inquirer and Reflection

The small town of Harvest, Okla. is abuzz with arguments and assertions about the nature of a strange power pole that has appeared downtown. We’ve likely already offended half our readership by claiming the pole appeared rather than having already existed, but we stand by our impeccable investigative journalism.

By the Editorial Board Recently, dear reader, we’ve noticed an influx of fan mail criticizing our journalistic integrity here at The Inquirer and Reflection. We must say that while this has disappointed some of the editorial staff here, it has done nothing more than inspire us to continue our

Todd couldn’t believe it. After everything he’d been through to make it to Harvest, those incredulous pencil-pushers were sending him back to the flatlands. He’d come to them for help, but as usual they couldn’t see how dangerous the situation had become. True, now that The

Yesterday, a strange man entered the headquarters of The Inquirer and Reflection. This man (named Todd) was quite angry with us; he claimed to be an employee of the paper! When we told him we had no record of his employment, now or in the past, he grew red in

“Good luck, Tracy!” “Surprise, Tracy!” What a fucking joke, Tracy thinks to herself. From bumfuck nowhere to hillbilly central. How’d an aspiring Pulitzer-caliber writer end up stuck with these cryptid-fawning tabloids. None of this work is going to garner any recognition (with sane people, at least). If Harvest didn’

We here at The Inquirer and Reflection are excited to announce that we’re expanding our operations and news coverage to Healing Springs, AR. The market there is even smaller than what we’re accustomed to in Harvest, OK (where our HQ is located), so it should fit our business

A nocturnal terror locals have started calling “The Padfoot” made another appearance last night in Harvest, Okla., according to eyewitnesses. Sally Gains, proprietor of Wanderstorm, a beloved local bookstore, described her encounter with the alleged creature: “At first I didn’t know what it was. Looked like a tumbleweed rolling

Joni winces when the hot, bitter coffee touches her tongue. Simon asks how the coffee is. Joni raises her mug and feigns a smile. When Simon looks away, her facade evaporates. She continues reading the day’s issue of The Inquirer and Reflection. She still couldn’t believe what Edith