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
The Bricks are Shrieking
Cal Jacobs sat in an uncomfortable rolling chair made of plastic and polyester, staring out the tenth floor window of his high-rise.
Destination Zero
It’s been 6 months, 13 days and 4 hours since I last weighed myself. I hid the scales in a plastic bag under some books
After the Earthquake
At first, the dreams were jagged and bewildering, like migraine lightning or a Dali canvas.
Only the Good Parts Left
Angie was the type of car people kept in antique store backyards ‘cause they thought she looked cool, “There ain’t nothing like a Classic Chevy.”
Paper Boat
Three walls of the room are made of tin, but on the fourth side a polished floor opens, running like fabric into curtains of lace,