A new kind of literary pulse

Billy got in touch. We must meet and soon. I have a secret to reveal that only you can understand – a true exquis. As if we hadn’t lost touch years ago.
The charge of his excitement ran... [+]

To call this elegant metropolis “The City of the Ape” does it a considerable disservice, but it is impossible to avoid. Every time we speak of something being as old as the Ape, we reaffirm the... [+]

It was one of those thunderstorms came on sudden-like. Before a body could cover its head it had passed on someplace else. Here, in our holler, we were used to such storms. We liked the surprise of... [+]

We’re always asking for too much in this office. First it was raspberries. Now it is kiwis. The kiwis roll around on the table in our office kitchen then rot.
At work, I sit on the second floo... [+]

When we awoke, we found a great curtain of linked metal rungs had been lowered to earth from the sky. The chain mail drape connected land and sky and ran as far the eye could see, across the ocean... [+]

A witch wind was howling out in the desert. I was praying for a storm to scour Coaling Depot 6 down to the ground, wipe it right off the Arizona Territory map. Apart from prayer, I still had a shot... [+]

For all his life, Frank had been at war with the willows. They sprouted in and around the stream, clogged the irrigation ditches, and choked off the water flow. 
His land, a narrow plain between... [+]

Randall stood before his bathroom mirror – gazing at the enormous, glistening dome that was his head. Creams, lotions, infused oils, battery-powered skull caps; he had deployed them all in his... [+]

My husband’s nose changed first—a nearly imperceptible spot-the-difference puzzle on a face I’d known for twenty-two years. Through our kitchen’s bay windows, the morning sunlight... [+]

A woman who claimed to be a chimera called the library most Tuesdays, on the old line they never got around to disconnecting after the renovations. The call went straight to a yellowed phone hung on... [+]

There is no cheerful clatter of pans, or old Beatles records spinning in the living room. No warm cinnamon smell fills the air – only burnt coffee. For a moment, I’m half expecting Papa to swoop... [+]

January 26, 1906
Forty-seven days have passed and the bananas in my kitchen are still green. They remain untouched and unmoved since I brought them home from market. To my eye they appea... [+]