Fiction

Fiction

Dreamless Nightmare

  I have not always had my medication to protect me from epilepsy, to keep my hand steady while I handled boiling grease and kitchen

Short Story

Wednesday

  It’ll be a Wednesday. It’ll be cloudy outside. There will be fog creeping over the ravine and remnants of an early-morning rain still drifting

Fiction

After the Earthquake

At first, the dreams were jagged and bewildering, like migraine lightning or a Dali canvas.

Fiction

The Decision

Maya puts away our coffee-cups – I’ll rinse them after our walk, along with the produce for lunch – and stands behind me, massaging my neck at the right spot.

Short Story

Lichtenberg Figures

The skin is the largest organ of the human body. It insulates and protects. It contains all we are. Fluids, muscles, tissues and bones, shuddering