Short Fiction and Poetry

My mother’s request was not unreasonable. She wanted a fence. She wanted a fence to keep the dog in and the rabbits out. [...]

A young woman in a black calico dress with onyx-black hair knocked on our door. She was lithe, with slim lips and penetrating green eyes[..]

When Trish placed the new key in the new lock and opened the old door, what she saw inside bore no resemblance to the home where [...]

The door hissed shut; the blitz of multi-coloured screens were locked out. Her feet squeaked as she came closer and beamed with light. [...]

Stephanie Gildon stumbled as she wiggled her butt off of the thick stone fence. Her foot turned awkwardly upon hitting the turf [...]

Stephen Miller swerved the stolen car to avoid a deer in the middle of the road. The car left the road, bulldozed its way [...]

Crisp white sheets contrasted against the dark bruises on her knuckles as she made the bed. [...]

I stopped giving a shit when I turned sixty-five. Pauline told me it would happen and crowed about the sense of freedom [...]

There is a walled district called Lime that has a separate existence tucked away and hidden from the rest of the town. [...]

Em Seever palms the items in Mother's pantry. She checks dates, wipes down dust, mashes a roach. The motions dampen her awareness [...]

The figure, a man, perhaps an unusually tall woman, stood silhouetted and motionless atop the sandstone ridge [...]

Gavin Helmscott III had lived, if you could call what he did living, nearly three centuries whole and unmolested, if a bit faded of late[..]

Elsie sat at the forest’s edge, her back against the deeply grooved bark of a fallen walnut tree. A moment earlier, three short [...]

The staff at the Arbourview Respite Centre were calling Louisa’s next-of-kin for instructions. The time had come to say good-bye.  [...]

That toy called to her. It wasn’t anything special: likely only cost four bucks brand new. However, something about this [...]

Tracing (enjoying) with her tongue the silhouette of the four new teeth she'd acquired since her last incarnation.  Ah, lovely, so slick[..]

The front door says family practice. A pastel-colored waiting room waits for us, and its brightness is upsetting my eyes. [...]

A couple months ago, I could navigate these streets in snowshoes. Pull myself forward by jabbing deep with ski poles. That’s impossible[...]

Alex Martel had been a reporter and gardening enthusiast for years and was excited to be heading to a very special place. [...]

Ever’body calls me Mother, even them who ain’t no kin to me. I’s born Sadie over in the Meade’s Chapel community and married [...]