Category: Fiction

Alice lugs her duffle bag up the stairs of the bus and bumps down the aisle until she gets to the back row of seats. Hers is the first stop on the route, and it’s pre-dawn. Her eyes adjust to the sharp interior lights. The freshly applied antiseptic cleaner is not fully covering the smell of body odour and

My name is Caddy Conwell, and I’m an evil henchman. Well… I wouldn’t exactly say I’m evil myself, just a henchman. The “evil” part comes from the people I work for. You see, I’ve accidentally gotten myself involved with this large group of powerful people collectively called The Villain Council. Ridiculous name, I know. Each

I saw them first on the old Kingsbridge Road that leads to Huntsmouth manor. An unpaved path pitted with stones and heavily furrowed gulleys from hard rain, the road was ill maintained. It was said among the village people that in the ‘70s secret government experiments went on in the manor, strange studies on the

“Where could he be?” Cecily shivered on the steps of a large, derelict mansion. Shifting, she adjusted her heavy knapsack to be more comfortable; it was filled with the various things needed for the day’s work. A compass, shiny, almost brand new; a hammer, which comes in handy more often than you would think; various

Remember our glory days when the world was fresh with possibility? It was a springtime of the spirit. In fact, it was spring. You and I were just two drops of rain, and we felt like we could fall forever. The world was our sky and the sky was our world. Everything was new and

       Georgia stood in the parking lot of the Johnson Street shelter, her black beret snugged down over her ears, her gloved hands holding a basket of homemade muffins nestled in a gingham napkin, and looked around at the two dozen or so homeless people on the sidewalk.  Temporarily displaced from the shelter while lunch

The people of Heoldel were precociously superstitious. They knew to cover their mirrors after sunset so as not to be pulled in and replaced by their mimicking reflections. To not gaze upon the moon when with child, lest it be born wolfish or malformed. And to hide and hang iron above the doorways of their

Trigger warning: racist characters The Speeding Ticket As Derek stood in the road, waiting for the officer to finish writing the ticket, he reflected somberly on his day. If only he had taken the interstate instead of cutting through the countryside on the backroads! Then he wouldn’t have been pulled over by the traffic cops,

It was a Tuesday, although it felt like a Sunday. The birth was a series of complex actions that led to many reactions. No wailing newborn or cheering parents.   Their existence winked into being and was so bright no one anywhere could respond. Just like that, they were here and new and alone.     This

I watched in awe as the rain fell in gallons. Raindrops as hefty as apples tumbled from the heavens in munificent volumes, muddying the desert sand. Whenever a giant drop smashed against the window, the pane would rattle like ice cubes in a jar. On the floor behind me, a dog howled at the storm.

I have a terrible, nasty habit of needing control. Some might call it an obsession or even a disorder. My therapist Dr. Suzuki has gone as far as calling it an addiction. We sit in zen-like office filled of plants. He is trained in Internal Family Systems therapy and is always trying to get me

“HWOOYA” This was the sound that echoes for at least an hour after waking up in this bizarre forest I had never seen in my life.  It feels chill and crisp like nature is one to do, but also with maple trees in a vibrant painterly orange that nature never has in a sky that