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BLAETARN
The draining of a tarn reverberates in the life of a lonely cowman.
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SPECTRE
An English student navigates a disorienting semester abroad.
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SWIRLING, RIPPLING
Vincent Van Gogh, unlucky in love, perceives what others cannot.
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STEPPING ON BEES
A babysitter meets a mysterious boy with an affinity for bee stings.
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BENNO, TRIPPI & BENNO
When a ventriloquist’s puppet disappears, who will take his place?
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WE DON’T BRUNCH ANYMORE
Romantic feelings and scamming on the brunch bill put a group of friends under strain.
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GHOST WORLD PROBLEMS
A new ghost figures out the rules of the game.
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Porphyria
I released the tube and let the blood seep into my hand, feeling my skin prick with warmth, awakening the euphoria. Leaving was a lone thing. Porphyria on her own.
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Greeks
A story about the characters who work in a restaurant kitchen and the tensions and conflicts between them.
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On Lovella Avenue
A pair of black cats. But unlike the squirrels, they were anticipating my arrival.
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Another Year
They didn’t hate Santa, they were just frustrated with the long, repetitive hours and needed someone to punish.
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Before he knew he was lost
He tried to pinpoint the moment that it began, the exact moment when he wasn’t sure why he was going, but it all felt too nebulous.
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House Rules
There were footsteps in the next room and Gail lay still, listening.
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The Nightingale and the Swallow
None of the teachers know my name, You’re Laura’s sister aren’t you? I like borrowing her status but I’d like my own name.
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Grave Matters
When he received the early-morning report of a vandalism incident in Springmeadow, he thought that the target must have been the new casino, or one of the city’s seedy downtown ...
Shrimp Woman
She rips the bird’s mandibles with her teeth and she devours his tongue, clacking her jaws at the texture, the taste.
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Beth’s Not Crazy
Beth’s not crazy. She knows that never works, too pleading. But she’s not. When the bipolar diagnosis came raining down….
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Garden of Motherless Children
Dave and Paula found Marcus’ body washed up in a bed of Phragmites along the river the next morning, not far down from the Chester River bridge.
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The Mother Turtle
The girls would often lay their heads on my back and stroke me as though I were their sister, whilst the boys would sharpen their knives. They longed to carve ...
Track
This wasn’t the life he expected, not really the one he wanted, but it was a life. A life could be lived this way. And once again he honed in ...