Short Fiction and Poetry

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 [...]

The woman’s hair was brittle and grey, as she lay in her quiet bed. Breathing in the fading day, Soft, weak, shallow [...]

I finally figured out the spice I did not Like, when I was a kid, and grandpa Would hand me spaghetti [...]

“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 [...]

Enveloped in exhaust fumes slate-like formations wait for light to change her carbon dress his face of ashes [...]

I’m writing with charcoal in a field on fire because fields burn to burn [...]

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