Short Fiction and Poetry

“I stopped doing DMT for spiritual reasons last year, when it started getting boring. Now I just ride real fast [...]

The heavy, frayed rope drags languidly behind me as my two great black hounds trot ahead [...]

Brendan’s baby sister Bonnie was making airplanes on the floor of the playroom. She lay on her stomach and lifted her arms out [...]

“This was the last picture my grandfather painted,” Roberta Barton said as she pointed to a picture on the wall [...]

Tickets went on sale at 10 am. Taney, seventh in line, had been camped out for days. Braved rain, sleet, jeers [...]

1:30 already? Goddamn it to hell! Of all the days I could randomly choose to squander, this is not it. [...]

“I've got to get out of these clothes—fast.” Startled out of my thoughts, I turned to my husband, unsure of what I'd just heard. [...]

THE DAY THAT’S COMING FOR YOU calls at dawn to say they’re on the way. Addled, you drop the phone. Shiver through a shower [...]

“You’ve done what?” “Think of it as a holiday.” “We don’t do holidays.” “Exactly!” I pointed my finger in the air [...]

What it began with, I know finally, is my grim curiosity. It tunneled into my brain like a small, helpless animal when I was a child. [...]

Caddie never told the whole truth. She learned early on there was a sly power in that. When Mom asked, Did you get your spelling done? [...]

The Pinkerton statue had a patina. It was a symbol of the history that took place in these lands. Many did not know the history [...]

My mother always seemed to call at the worst moment. I would be on an important call at work, or compromised by a bathroom break [...]

The car crept up the hill through a wrought iron gate and parked under the light of a lamppost beside a small dark gatehouse [...]

“Looks like another flood today,” said the Rootsmith, taking off her headphones. Across the room, Sagistus looked up [...]

Amelia dances alone, a girl again in a looking-glass room who moves through all the mornings and afternoons of each peculiar day [...]

The original Night of the Living Dead, all silver shadowed black and white, would rise up in my hypnagogic sixteen-year-old brain [...]

I wake up while being walked down a long beige corridor. There are doors in carefully measured increments along the corridor [...]

Her grandfather had always frightened Lauren with stories about what creatures lived at the bottom of the river [...]

It was a hot night. He tossed and turned restlessly in his sheets. In his dream he saw a vast steppe [...]