The car door thumps dully behind me, an underwater sound far from my ears. With shaking hands, I fish the manila envelope from my pocket and hold up the first photo from the pile. I’m seeing double as the signs… Continue Reading
A cool wind ripped at Tristan’s clothes. Waves crashed on the cliff below barely drowning out the beating of his heart. The abandoned house loomed high above, back lit by the stormy sky. Its mansard roof formed a brow over… Continue Reading
I am in the Blue Land and it feels as if I have wandered into some tale — children touch my skin to see if the color wears off, our gods count for nothing. I am in Karei-boto, a solemn… Continue Reading
That Winter, to me, will always be Clare in a bright red cape, puffing on a snowy street. Moving in in January, I dropped a box of my parents’ old crockery down the stairs, and never replaced it. It was… Continue Reading
There’s a moment when you’re swinging. When the swing is as high as it can go and you’re suspended in midair. If you lean back on your way up to that moment, you’ll find yourself surrounded by sky, suspended in… Continue Reading
He only sees her sometimes. Maybe once or twice a year, if that, and only then when he’s caught off guard. When, preoccupied with exhaustion or the grim necessities of survival, she slips his mind for a moment that allows… Continue Reading
“Good evening, sir,” said the pale man in black coat at my front door. “Hello. You are…?” “Call me Mackey, sir.” “Ah, Mr. Mackey, you’re a day early,” I said, clutching my robe against the chill. “But come in, come… Continue Reading
This blanket would be unmemorable except you recognize this as your favorite pattern and remember where, still new to knitting needles, you used to drop stitches and clumsily fix them up. Your fingertips know this sturdy, not-soft yarn without touching… Continue Reading
Their uneven line inches forward, seventeen concerned volunteers trespassing lawfully in dew-stained sneakers. The morning is bright, unseasonably warm, but she can still see her breath. Maggie walks and watches, barely aware of the faraway scent of burning cedar nearby… Continue Reading
It’s a Sunday morning and I’m in the kitchen stirring up pancake batter, watching little brown ants march along the wall under the windowsill. I’m thinking about herding the ants onto a piece of paper, mixing them into the batter… Continue Reading