I found a sort of skull in the garden. You did? Let me see. I didn’t bring it inside. It’s a skull. Well, what kind of animal is it from? I don’t know. Do I look like a zoologist? All… Continue Reading
On the morning of her fortieth birthday, Lena took literal steps to reclaim her life. The weather had just begun to take notice of autumn, and a crisp breeze blew gray remnants of yesterday’s storms so that the sky was… Continue Reading
The young adult protagonist sat patiently in front of her bedroom mirror, waiting for the author to write her. As she brushed her long brown hair, she stared critically at her reflection. She thought of herself as quite plain, although… Continue Reading
Paris is a city of many things — lights, sounds, whispers… and cats. Cats haunt modern Paris like fur-clad ghosts — whiskered faces through window panes, gray mousers plying their trade in alleyways, rooftop cats and cats who sleep and… Continue Reading
We could see straight down to the bottom of the Guadalupe river that day. There were turtles, minnows, and rocks covered in algae. We walked along the banks, scoping out the perfect spot to sit and pretend we were carefree.… Continue Reading
My world is a gun pressed against my forehead. The pressure is committed, lethal. My reality is details: Nickel plated precision cocooned by knuckles tattooed with H A T E. A bare arm with ropey muscles writhing under tattoos and… Continue Reading
I discovered the critique group online and decided to go because I wanted to share my stories with people who understood things like writing and moonlight. I’d been looking forward to it all week, although the prospect of reading my… Continue Reading
Balancing her backpack and the box of doughnuts from Krispy Kreme, Jenny opened the door to the cramped student apartment she shared with Mark. She was surprised to see him still sitting at the kitchen table, two laptops going full… Continue Reading
The podium is uneven on the grassy outdoors, and Anthony feels it wobble slightly as he rests his notepad and palms atop it. The hum of the wind lilts as he clears his throat and loosens his black tie just… Continue Reading
“Autumn Sweater” plays. And there we are, sitting, existing, in this space whose size we cannot know. And it’s a cliché, but clichés sprout from truth, and that’s a heavy truth that just sits there unless you do something with… Continue Reading