In her English class, Gillian was assigned an ode. She wrote to the jagged Zorro scar above her knee from the August night she taught Benny to surf in the rickety trailer camper their father towed. They’d been banished from… Continue Reading
The flowers glow against the pewter light of a soggy spring. You regard them with distaste. Your feet smack against the pavement, thud, thud, thud, aggravation weighting your steps. You do not want to go. You do not want to… Continue Reading
We march forward, just the three of us, winding through the endless maze of the toxic jungle. My brother’s boots squelch in the sucking mud, pools of dark liquid earth cast with a purple, oily sheen. Unnatural, and yet completely… 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
I watched her as much as she pretended not to watch me. My little sister. Wasn’t the youngest the baby? Wasn’t she supposed to be subject to our parents’ worries? Their touches of melancholy? I remember when she would beg… Continue Reading
Sometimes there’s a moment so quiet right after the exhaled breath when there is no breath, and an interval between two lives is suddenly bridged. My name is William, Wendell or Wallace. I’m not sure which. At this moment, it… Continue Reading
I never understood crimes of opportunity until I was on that bus. It curved through the cheaper part of the city, a rundown place where even the roaches quivered at the footsteps of pedestrians. We passed in and out of… Continue Reading
For a while, Simon thought he was a tortoise too. He was green, and pretty, and liked to bask in the sun. But there was no denying the obvious: even the tortoise’s lethargic pace was faster than Simon could go.… Continue Reading
My older sister Kolt storms into the kitchen like an angry ostrich, all neck and ruffled feathers and big round eyes. Her fists are balled, her face splotchy red, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She’s barefoot. I bite… Continue Reading
I was thirteen when Daryl Harrison fell off our grain bin. Zach brought me along once to go visit him in the hospital. I remember clenching onto the plastic railing of the footboard of his bed. It all happened on… Continue Reading