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Category: Stories

  • Metamorphose, Swallow Her

    Harlow met Stevie while watching an otter in light-wash jeans and a leather chest harness snort poppers. There was an anticipation of what was next or who was next; always going to the next and then the next and then gone.

  • The Path

    Along the path. Through the forest. Uphill. Downhill. Autumn, winter, spring. In all weathers. Running. Always running. Last night was bitterly cold, and this morning – school. The grown-ups say it’s only four kilometres to school, but they never walk us there. Only rarely, on the coldest days, if there happens to be a free…

  • Blessed

    When Teresa confessed to Pastor John that she was pregnant, he proclaimed it immaculate, called her up to the altar on Sunday so that the congregation could bask in the glow of her blessing, her blonde hair tinged red in the light filtering through the stained glass window behind her, her belly just starting to…

  • Last Respects at Maggie O’Malley’s Wake

    The dusty lampshade around the bulb cast more shadow than light, and her mother’s deathbed lay in semi-darkness. She glanced over at the neighbor. Old Mrs. Ryan nodded her agreement, so Joanne flung the curtains open. The pigeons that had congregated outside the window left in a flutter, and the pewter-grey light of the October…

  • Downstream from the Hollow

    Sun drenched skin, browned with age and looking like the old wrinkled leather that it was, stretched over hands that were more tendons and prideful obstinance than strength. Jasper turned the pan in a smooth, easy motion that he had taught himself over the last forty years panning for gold. He didn’t really care if…

  • Catnap

    Nen was resting in the living room, as ordered. Maybe resting more than recommended. It hadn’t been that long. The cast was still on her arm. She was reading a detective novel she had read and reread maybe every six months since she had been a freshman in high school. She had the mystery memorized…

  • On Crossing the Atlantic in the Fall of 1976 as a Five-Year-Old

    First there is the paper folio of tickets, parents’ excitable talk. During long afternoons, your sister holds away the delicate, flimsy sheets, but she points out her printed name there, and yours. Then, the sudden bustle of departure: the four of you crammed into the backseat of your neighbors’ station wagon, the drive down to…

  • Home

    The old man sits at the kitchen table, though it is no longer much of a kitchen. The stove doesn’t work, but that is because he no longer bothers with it. The sink drips slowly into a basin, though only because he has let it. A mouse skitters across the counter, but it is no…

  • Clinical Labor

    I had to agree not to get pregnant. I told Vick Clover, the recruiter, that I didn’t intend to have sex with anyone any time soon, but that didn’t matter. As “a woman of childbearing potential,” I had to produce a negative hGG serum test to participate in a Phase 1 drug trial. Then, I…

  • Gloves

    I remember when I first started wearing gloves. My mother gave me a “training” pair. I was hesitant, nervous, and shoving my knuckles into that small space felt so claustrophobic I began to cry. “You’ll get used to it soon enough,” she said, but as my fingers began to feel dewy with the constant shelter…

  • Wednesday, After School

    The soles of our sneakers pounded years of sodden leaves. The rubber of Reeboks skidded on dew the sun never burned up deep in the shady woods. We heard them behind us laughing. The redhead the loudest, screeching and puffing.  Margaret, Wendy, and I knew where to go. The woods were filled with abandoned tree…

  • The Babysitter’s Crush

    He was four. His babysitter was fourteen. She glowed and lifted him into a glowing happiness where it was warm and safe. When he turned five, she turned fifteen, and the difference was negligible; he was still in love, she was still beautiful. The house glowed in the afternoons when they watched television together waiting…