I paint a line of blood down his face. “Thanks, Kate,” Ricky says. “How do I look?” “Like you’re too old to go trick or treating.” I suggest we begin at the Bennetts’, notorious for king-sized candy bars. “But everyone… Continue Reading
Amy Ford woke up dead. It was immediately obvious she was dead. Her mind went through a number of distinct memories: driving high on methamphetamine, wrapping her car around a tree, and being flung onto the road. She remembered thinking,… Continue Reading
“Do not step over that threshold tonight,” her mother said. “When twilight descends, lock the door and bar it.” Gilda nodded. Her mother pressed an iron key into her hand. Gilda tucked it into the pocket of her apron, white… Continue Reading
At night, the sulphurous fog grew thicker, and the women took their usual positions under the doorways and gas lamps of Whitechapel. Molly’s shoes clicked against the cobblestones as she tried to catch the eye of any passing male. She… Continue Reading
Something brought her out of sleep. A scream, she thought. It was guttural, near inhuman, and seemed to stretch out into the expanse of night and recede into the dark. She couldn’t tell if it had been real. She didn’t… Continue Reading
Thirty minutes past his mother’s scheduled appointment time, Milovan looks to the clock, pleads with it, says a prayer. He sees that it tilts to the left so that the “1” sits where the “12” should be. Or maybe his… Continue Reading
The bridge to my mother erodes in word-shaped chunks: broken sentences and hesitant pauses. Frustration traces the downward curve of Ma-Ma’s mouth, a bow with no arrows left to fire. “Na ge,” she says. Brittle fingers tug at her hair,… Continue Reading
On the first bite, you know they’ve used cyanide and you think: they’re finally trying to kill me. You’ve always looked ahead into the raveling naughts and ones that pattern the future. You’ve followed each symbol, each theorem through your… Continue Reading
Although it is wet and windy, Bader drives along the highway, window wound down, head poking into the gust, tongue lolling out, soaking it all in. It is one of the disadvantages of being a dog in his previous life.… Continue Reading
Dear Miss Louise, I know I told you this already when you visited with your church group, but I’ve been thinking on it, and decided to write the church in hopes the letter will get to you so I can… Continue Reading