Mrs. Ticktock spreads a tarp on the floor and places a machine of her own invention at the center of the room. The tall yellow cylinder with three silver gooseneck limbs ending in red, blue, and yellow funnels could be… Continue Reading
Frieda Jacobson drives west on I-80, her ten-year-old son Ron in the back. “Daddy gonna meet us at our new home?” Frieda lowers the visor of her small Chevy coupe against the glare of the setting sun. “Nope, and you… Continue Reading
The girl stood stock-still, her arms at her sides, on a bus bench along a two-lane road near a fast-food restaurant. She had on a ragged purple corduroy jumper and a blouse that never would be white again. A backpack… Continue Reading
“Laurel! How many times have I told you!” I swipe the locket off the table and bang open the bathroom door, yelling to be heard over the running shower. “You never take it off. Never!” “Just while I’m—” “Even in… Continue Reading
Lila Fellows — one-hundred and thirty pounds, nineteen years old, deloused, wormed, chipped, injected, and of good pedigree — wanted to stop biting their hands. But it was difficult. She knelt in the right place, where Owner indicated with a… Continue Reading
We had such an exciting day. Before the sun rose, my mother woke me up to help her look for my sister. We had been playing hide-and-go-seek before we were put to bed, but she must have been too excited… Continue Reading
They tied Bill again and again to the Horseshoe. The longer he was strapped in, the more he felt the black nylon rope grow teeth that dug into his forearms. The Horseshoe—U-shaped, wooden—sat on top of a counter, and he… Continue Reading
Of course not, Momma’d never hurt me. She never raised a hand to me, never had a reason to. Every day she’d tell me, “Jenny, you’re such a good girl. You’re such a wonderful little girl,” and she would buy… Continue Reading