Issue Twelve

Tornado Dreams

I’ve never been in a tornado. But the landscapes of my childhood dreams were ravaged by them. Brought on by the trauma in my waking hours, my tornado dreams were prolific, and proved to be, prophetic. The first, an EF-1, to spin its massive cone into my dreams, did so...

The Truth or Something Like It

I met Joe Nuxhall a few weeks after my fifteenth birthday. His hands were gnarled, and he spoke as though his mouth was half full of marbles, but he was sharp and funny as hell. I was only a few months younger than he was when he made his Major League debut....

Lithosphere

My phone screen reads: Magnitude 3.7. The shaking lasts only a few seconds. I’m an amateur seismologist as well as real estate expert, like any good Californian. Californians both old and new are preoccupied with the security of the ground and the space on that...

Blood Histories

At one point in history, there was a girl who saved herself from history. How pretty she was is not important. Which of her parents sent her out into the world—inconsequential. What does matter is that she did the opposite of what she had always wanted because what...

**Some Good Features (Amazon Review)

Came decently wrapped and on time. Impressed at first with some good features i.e. saucepan eyes, curls, bubbly burps. Teasable/coaxable/soft. Still looks fine though curls long gone. Disappoints over time. Used intensively without much success - unable to get across...

How Melba Got Her Groove Back

Melba had thought she was too old to be possessed by a demon, that this sort of thing only happened to young people living in cobblestoned colonial neighborhoods, or new housing developments built over Native American burial grounds, not to retired persons living in...

Misguided Prophets

The Sibyl Was Too Old To Go To A Beauty Counter  There was a home for the prophets that couldn't remember their names anymore. This could only push the mimics into cages to see if they could swirl the leaves with their tongues and make God-given mistakes. There...

A Cacaphony of Lovers

My first was a lover of balloons – fast up, deflating slowly, achingly. Next, a magician, always kept something up his sleeve to tantalise and tease. Until, one day, the rabbit he pulled out was dead. I indulged other tastes with Clarice, a fire-breather and spinner –...

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