In summer, the soles of Eva’s feet were permanently stained crimson from playing barefoot under the huge mulberry tree that to her ten-year-old eyes seemed to take up a full half of her backyard. Every day she ran outside, squashing… Continue Reading
Pickle Spear waited anxiously for the next burst of light to fall upon Cream Cheese resting quietly on the top shelf. Situated on the door between Sweet Relish and Mayonnaise he had little room to maneuver for a better view.… Continue Reading
You don’t think about bad news right away when you see that golden spongy log in cellophane by your dinner plate. You don’t question the oddity or take any special note of the fact that we don’t eat Twinkies for… Continue Reading
Renato would have followed me a thousand miles back to my apartment. At least that’s how it felt in the beginning. The truth is that there were only 45 steps between my apartment and the wine bar around the corner… Continue Reading
She walks quickly down the aisle of the train, looking for an open compartment. Her heavy fur coat marks her as out of place in the second-class wagon. Once, she would have travelled in the first class section with the… 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
Malcolm ‘Stakeman’ Gribble didn’t look like a vampire hunter. He looks like someone who lives in their mother’s basement, thought Aneira, as she watched him eat through the roadside diner’s misted window. He had long, greasy brown hair, milk bottle… Continue Reading
The smell of death isn’t death; it’s food. The smell wafts from the kitchen, permeates the hallway, living room, and dining room of the old colonial. It travels up the stairs in whiffs of almost tangible threads into the two… Continue Reading
Every time we get together we cook too much, and then we eat too much. Even though our parents did their best to try and teach us proper table manners, we hunch our backs, put our elbows on the table… Continue Reading
They collided on the Farmers Market at Clinton and Bailey streets in Buffalo, New York, on a sultry Saturday in August. She was forty-six, and outspoken. He was twenty-one, and given to few words. They both spotted the last basket… Continue Reading