Today was the Fourth of July. Again. With picnics and band music in the park. Dancing in the gazebo. Firecrackers. Watermelon and cherry pie, Families and friends with clothing stained red. I’m smiling, nursing memories, swaying with the music. “Beautiful,… Continue Reading
A million walking corpses migrated on foot to that arid, dusty hellhole, forced from their huts and rural hovels by persistent drought and growing famine. They were ragged, unwashed. To my newly-arrived colleagues, the stench was overwhelming. But then personal… Continue Reading
She didn’t see it when the bird flew in her window. One moment she was driving her little coupe down the boulevard and wondering where her daughter might be this time, and the next there was a flutter and a… Continue Reading
The waiter nodded and backed away respectfully. Nordique poured herself the last of the wine they had selected. “An exceptional vintage, Ar.” Nordique swirled the wine. “Pressed from the first generation of white grapes grown on Venus. Sure you want… Continue Reading
Inside the hay maze, it was complete darkness after the first turn. I would’ve gone with him, but it was difficult to fit my whole body in the tunnel. Stacked wall to the ceiling with bales of hay, the entryway… Continue Reading
My daughter’s red hair lights up the room, this wild child, this toddler Pippi Longstocking. Her father had red hair. I met him in a mad, bad, crazy time in my life when I broke up with Tim, my eight-year-long… Continue Reading
When their ships landed on the porous soil of Blue-and-a-Rock, the hatchlings rushed out to preserve the petroglyphs. They moved like a flood: overrunning the fields and valleys of the moribund world, clogging up the caves, prodding with claws and… Continue Reading
We zig-zag along a crooked stone bridge towards the tavern. Mist blankets the water, which is riotous with koi, though it’s a clear day elsewhere — a hologrammic projection of the weather from hundreds of years ago. Our daughter, Ruyi,… Continue Reading
Blankness is a language I’ve been writing in for years. Where I come from, girls are only called girls because they weren’t born boys. There, they teach you how to drink water, but never to address thirst. Or to take… Continue Reading
Even in the dead of night, my eyes do not falter from the nightstand beside of my bed, where my phone lies dormant. Checking it only confirms that it’s still 1:17 A.M. My mind shuns away any hope of sleep.… Continue Reading