Issue Ten

Casting

Rhea’s hunkered down, cradled by roots of ancient pines that reach riverwards. She’s crawled through dense bracken with the saucepan full of ashes, away from prying eyes to the water’s edge.  Held safe, feeling the thrum of the earth alive around her, she takes a...

Unity

You told me a story about a What or a Who, saying you’d prefer to say neither; you’d prefer not to choose, though I wondered if the nothing in your last line is the empty set, a simple...

Esperance

Our town of Esperance keeps its Watchers out all night. Dad says I’ll get used to it, but I’m here to tell you that I won’t. Ever. Cecily Patchett is the Watcher’s oracle; she sits on her front stoop 24/7 and stares at the sky, her eyes cataract-cloudy and her mouth...

Wrongdoings

She told me I was like a wound to her, that she wished someone could stitch me up. "You make me feel private and afraid." I hardly knew her. What had I done? Had she me confused with someone else? I thought back over all my wrongdoings (especially that thing with...

The Unsubtle Beating of Wings

Amelia was a sensation, dropping perilously from the sky, a shiver of raindrops glossing her hair. She stood solidly next to the men as they're voices trembled with regret, wondering how she faced their fears of the unknown....

A Single Crease

The whole of her right eye is watering and Farrah wipes it brisk with a tissue.  Tears stream down the inner corner of her nose, the outer cup of her cheekbone, meeting under her chin.  It’s been this way for awhile now and Farrah knows it means more than...

The Birds in the Trees

There was a bird that pecked with its beak at the wood of the trees, in the trunks, which made holes in the trees where bugs lived, it seemed, though these bugs, the boys could not see them. The bird ate at the bugs that it pecked up and out of the wood, of the...

water out of wine glasses

Home is a waterfall of lip glosses and a keychain with too many keys, half-eaten chocolate bars, and small scraps of paper with notes on them that I can no longer read—the handwriting is faded to scratches. Salt, Tabasco, and cans of Diet Coke that look like the...

Schnauzers and Shawarma

Palm I My mother said I don’t stand a ghost of a chance. It’s the same thing she used to tell me when she was alive, walking around all gussied up with an ultra-miniature schnauzer hanging from a gold chain leash around her neck, the long white gloves covering her...

Pin It on Pinterest