On paper, Arman was not unlike the other applicants. His face, just like the others, was young and hopeful.
Mom says her father was an arsonist. She told me when I was eight. I sat next to her on the sofa, my feet sticking out in front of me. ...
During the winter of ’98, I think I was in love or obsessed with Mother Teresa. This version had pierced nipples and a coke problem and an oversized Cramps T-shirt ...
Set during the EEE outbreak that gripped the Michigan region, a young man who, years after making a decision that destroyed his family, is finally forced to confront his choices–in ...
A middle-aged woman reconciles with her inner world and her physical reality, as she undergoes a series of anti-climaxes.
Before the sun rises, a farmer must tell his son he is adopted. Whilst they attempt to save the life of an orphaned lamb.
Maybe then she could stand on her tippy-toes and pull down the cables with both hands, fill the room with electricity, set fire to her stack of kimonos, set the ...
…he looks out at a huge garden, nine thirty in the morning, caffe latte in hand. Afar are a dozen pink flamingos standing in shallow water. A few of the ...
Transistor Man glides on waves of sound, the electro-sheen of an ineluctable moment, forever in search of the perfect now.
“Thou art my
beloved Son; with thee I am well pleased.”
Even Jesus craved
his Father’s approval, never mind that meeting expectations required getting
nailed to a cross.
Shifting nervously ...
descended the stairs, careful not to slip on the hardwood. In his jetlagged daze he could feel the mystical silence of the
morning sunshine flooding the empty house through ...
“He took another deep, soulful breath. The smells were vivid, they carried with them a cascade of memories. Little fingers trying to knot the silk cord of the bag […]”
Photo Credit: Charles Rattray
He wonders whether it was the child or the old man in him that led him to do it, or whether it was the sentimentality that he ...
Photo Credit: Mark Gallacher.
You’ve been talking again.
It’s all I’ve got. Anyway. Aren’t the dying allowed
Thursday nights, we played table tennis in the
Progress Hall. ...
progressed steadily through the tall pines and up the long valley in the
Sawtooth mountains north of Boise. All but one of the cabins had been
evacuated. Fire ...
reflected car lights like winking windows. Adriana scurried through the rain,
looking for the address of the agency. When she found it, she sheltered in the
building entrance to ...
hold my mother’s hands in mine, her skin coarse, fingers thicker than I
remember them. She still manicures her nails, the bright colour clashing with
the marks left ...
I first saw her at a book burning. It was her eyes. That wild orange they reflected.
I shouldn’t be telling you any of this, Carl, but I know I can trust you.
We prized ourselves on our reliability, our most solid trait. On top of that, she was a whiner; a big-time needer. She even took seconds.