“No gargoyles,” said the opera conductor. “We take singers, strings, brass. No granite. Join a rock band.” I pulled the corners of my mouth to my ears and stuck out my tongue. Well, admittedly I’m carved that way. Thanks, Mason… Continue Reading
(content warning: rape) I close my eyes and the quiet, black space around me is filled with you. Do you think of me too? I wonder if you do. Wonder if that night is still carved into your wrists, wriggling… Continue Reading
Steeled for another Friday night gig behind the club’s horseshoe bar, Carol fashions fruit garnishes as DJ Danny and his tattoos play the usual songs. Between lemon twists and orange peels, familiar faces order a beer, a punch board, or… Continue Reading
In my memory, my dad and I stand in the detached garage of that old farmhouse, the faded green one at the end of the long lane that runs past Woods Camp and the football field. The door is open,… Continue Reading
In Bensonville, nobody wants to raise the dead anymore, so they leave them on the porch with the rest of the recyclables. Sometimes, the dead are wrapped in quilts or given a few crackers and a bit of water while… Continue Reading
Jazzy had first learned English by reading and her vocabulary could sound strange to my American ears. Words like suitor, betrothal, nuptials. But when Jazzy meant love, that was the word she used. As in her final message, just before… Continue Reading
Mannequins are a kind of living organism; Aaron knew that. Though rigidly fixed in place and confined by an uncanny plastic shell, every model in every shop in the mall had been imprinted by human touch. The employees that dressed… Continue Reading
Spectators gathered beneath the multi-coloured bunting flapping overhead for the village’s Annual Chilli Eating Contest. A single long table dominated the green, the judges’ gazebo placed at its centre, pegged into the grass to stop it blowing over like last… Continue Reading
Judge Coleman notices several deputies enter and take seats in the back of her courtroom as she prepares to call the misdemeanor docket. She gives them a quizzical look and they smile. Judge Coleman doesn’t know they’ve been tipped off… Continue Reading
It didn’t snow this year, but it doesn’t matter. Mrs White (née Flynn) doesn’t like the snow anyway. It makes her joints flare up and she’s turning seventy next year, you know. She doesn’t need the bother. And anyway, the… Continue Reading