My old man’s dad died just a month before I was born. I always wished I’d met him. He was, by all accounts, a real character I’d have enjoyed talking to. Ma’s dad was still with us, so to differentiate… Continue Reading
The butterflies were in Anna’s head, not in her stomach — a swarm of glorious, golden images she couldn’t seem to suppress, even when she told herself to count sheep, or recite nonsense rhymes, to try and lull herself to… Continue Reading
Grampa Don hated houseflies. To hear him talk you’d think there weren’t no flies in Chicago, but we visited once and there were flies a’plenty, I assure you. But when Grampa stayed with us he was forever complaining about flies… Continue Reading
Jenna opened the small box at the bottom of Oma’s closet. She began to cry when she saw the pair of bright pink sneakers, which she had loved as a child, was embarrassed by as a teenager, and respected her… Continue Reading
My grandmother kept a satchel in her room. It sat by the door collecting dust. Inside she had packed a change of undergarments, a nightgown, several pairs of knee-high socks, a cotton blouse, a plain skirt with an elastic waistband,… Continue Reading
“Please,” he says, and I hear the desperation in his voice before I turn around. “Please, can you help me? I’ve lost my granddaughter. Please, can you help…?” I remember the day that Alice disappeared in the supermarket; I remember… Continue Reading
No matter who Jax asked about the old times, before his people made webs over the dead city, the answer was always similar. Nobody knows, the old stories don’t say. Under the shrugs, a signal almost too faint to hear:… Continue Reading
The lights on the Christmas tree sparkle, there is wrapping paper scattered all over the floor and the house rings with laughter. The smell of the Christmas lunch wafts in from the kitchen and my sherry glass is full. “Grandpa,”… Continue Reading
She hated him. Granny’s favourite. He’d pushed her and hurt her, and she’d said something nasty to him and repeated it several times. Her grandmother had put her hand over her mouth, spoken about soap and water and vile language… Continue Reading
A heron perched in a mangrove tree glanced at the old pickup. Its tires crushed the shells lining the driveway leading to the back of a coral-pink house. An unshaven man in shorts and a sleeveless River Monsters tee-shirt hopped… Continue Reading