Fiction
inspired by bessie head's "looking for a rain god." only one period, saved for the very end. try reading this aloud in one breath. Straw dolls swing from the willow tree, children bathe in water once saved for drinking, lithe women bite their lips for color,
Profiles
PT. 2 - WALK Last night, I walked with Mr. Magic Eight Eyes. He has expressive eyes that have settled down on a still face. They are the eyes of a child. And that child’s drawing of an eye — symmetrically almond, like a football, a lemon, or a sunrise
Profiles
DRESS Shirley Jackson was incomplete without her wingtip collar. They sat on her dresses defiantly, detective-like and wilted at their edges. Hers, in particular, seemed oddly oversized, dwarfing the buttons, as if a child with clumsy, excited hands and grown-up scissors cut its sewing pattern. Collars were a staple in
Profiles
An imagined monologue spoken by Ivanka Trump. “I remember these slow Sundays as daddy’s little girl. At the altar, I gave my prettiest, Presbyterian smile, ready to receive the Lord. And daddy was so proud, like the hyacinths that sprung from chalices. Facing the congregation, I waited for that
Fiction
The bells on Vera’s braids go bing bong. Like a tin seesaw, hollowed on the inside, creaking through the Ozark heat, the shrill chime ricochets in the parlor. The children, holding rabbit toys, dance in jolly circles, threading between each other. Her jaw flaps, hinges, and snaps; Mr. Victor’
Fiction
Do not bother to ask Natasha if she has plans on Friday. Natasha works the Friday shift. And if it wasn’t for the glossy, scattershot promise she had as a writer, with a bespoke blessing of dyslexia, Natasha would be a receptionist for as long as it took for
Fiction
The Cherrytown Circus runs thrice a year — come one, come all, he’ll wait for you here. Through the bulbed gates, behind the luxe velvet drapes, a man named Lobster Boy waits. Through the crack of that same old, rotted panel, he looks for Cherrytown’s sweetheart. She sits in
Profiles
PT. 1 - DINNER Last night, I had dinner with Mr. Magic Eight Eyes. He eats slowly. He is reserved with his own appetite. His mouth is boyish, reduced, and belly-buttoned-up. The lips twist and curl inward as if retreating cautiously. I wonder if this is his tell — Am I