ROCKING THE CRADLE • by Swetha Amit
I am not sure how long I have been dead. Perhaps a month. A year. Or maybe even a few days. I can’t tell. My brain has been fuzzy lately. However, I do recognize my home. I am in my… Continue Reading
I am not sure how long I have been dead. Perhaps a month. A year. Or maybe even a few days. I can’t tell. My brain has been fuzzy lately. However, I do recognize my home. I am in my… Continue Reading
The bulbous brown and yellow forms resembled animals, swimming in a sea of spun sapphire. I should have waited to take the pill. It always made me see things, or at least see things differently. The woman wearing the low-cut… Continue Reading