FLIES • Han Noss
You are ten years old and a fly zips around you and you scream that it’s a bee. You cover your head and scream and scream until your mother swats the fly against the wall and it falls, dead. She… Continue Reading
You are ten years old and a fly zips around you and you scream that it’s a bee. You cover your head and scream and scream until your mother swats the fly against the wall and it falls, dead. She… Continue Reading
Never give up. That became the family’s mantra, even after the basement flooded with sewage for the third, fourth, fifth time. By number five, old Grandad Uchytil figured it was going to be an annual visitation, a smelly, inconvenient, unavoidable… Continue Reading
My first day alive, four days before my last, was cold and bright. The Woman had made me sometime in the morning when the air was damp and the garden was quiet. Before she gave me my eyes, I could… Continue Reading
Iggy was a curious rock, expelled from an adventurous planet to travel to an unknown new world, Earth. The journey was long. Rocks make ideal interstellar travelers; they have no need of support equipment and bear the boredom well. Iggy… Continue Reading
Monday, staring at lychees in the specialty shop, Zuberi wondered who had murdered the snitch. And how he and Rosa could have quarreled over something so — impersonal. They were an ideal couple, had met in their late thirties, wiser.… Continue Reading
For their 60th “diamond” anniversary, Martine booked an old-fashioned gondola ride down Broadway, starting Uptown. Doctor Alcuna had warned her not to get her hopes too high for the occasion, that the Memantine™ and Donepezil™ still showed no sign of… Continue Reading