When she picked me up from school that day, my mother was in a bad mood. She was quiet and scowling, swore under her breath at the guy who cut her off. I ignored her moodiness and looked out the… Continue Reading
The meandering lines of dream-deprived people forming inside the Dream Depot were longer than ever before. Created by a team of Jungian psychiatrists and software engineers, the Depot had developed sophisticated subconscious-encoding techniques that reprogrammed the mind for optimal happiness… Continue Reading
He is already screaming at me. Even before I cross the intersection, he is gesticulating in my direction, brandishing a tiny black prayer book. My accuser, garbed in black hat and coat, is perched behind an overturned shopping cart: a… Continue Reading
I hated my options. Wouldn’t sell my jewelry. Agathe said, “You can’t take it with you,” but we can’t take anything with us. My husband had turned into a toad and hopped away; my kids were just starting out; I… Continue Reading
Listen to “Trebarwith Strand” by Danielle Posner Sykes, read by Izzy David: [display_podcast] Danielle Posner Sykes first realised writing was what she wanted to do at the age of 13, when she reduced her English class to tears with a… Continue Reading
Jerome sits down to watch the big game. He has been preparing for this moment for hours. Earlier that afternoon, he purchased all the necessary supplies — Tostitos, salsa, cheese dip, and a six-pack of Budweiser — and assembled them… Continue Reading
I cart the large block of ice in through the delivery door, straight into the freezer of my father’s butcher’s shop. No, my butcher shop. Bequeathed. The last time I was in here I’d told my father I was going… Continue Reading
Looking back, that whole apple episode was probably for the best. Don’t get me wrong, things were great in those days, but it feels like a dream now, like it happened to someone else. When the kids are quiet and… Continue Reading
She hears the fat thump from down the hallway and pokes her head out from the kitchen. Sighs. Then reaches to turn the turnips down and throw her oven mitts on the tabletop. The dead weight of Granny, sunk into… Continue Reading
“Hey.” He walks into her parents’ living room and looks at the book she’s holding open in her lap. “Harry Potter?” She nods. “I’m on Prisoner of Azkaban.” She pretends to keep reading as she stares at the open pages.… Continue Reading