Bellatrix Sakakino worked for a commercial bank, focusing on securities valuation and research, and nobody liked her. This was because of her tints and hues. The colors emanating from her person were
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Short Fiction
Short Fiction
Portrait
2 min
The Night My Father Danced Like Gene Kelly
Dapper in a topcoat and tails, feet moving fast and graceful as birds skimming still waters, he whirled and swooped, catching my mother, still young and slim, by the waist, bending her backward. She
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Short Fiction
Brick Room
Sarah feels bricked up, even though she's riding her bike. She feels caged, because of where she's riding her bike: to a coffee shop to meet an ex she's not sure she wants to meet. He called her to
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Short Fiction
A Stranger’s Time
I've never been less than an hour early for my train. I don't know if it comes from a sense of heightened preparedness or an ongoing current of anxiety that doesn't even let me sleep in on weekends
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Short Fiction
The Girl in the Tree
Tracy Jo Freely climbed a tree one day. A plum tree. The big plum tree at the end of Miro Street.
"When are you coming back down?" her parents asked her an hour later.
"Never," said Tracy Jo.
He ... [+]
"When are you coming back down?" her parents asked her an hour later.
"Never," said Tracy Jo.
He ... [+]
Short Fiction
Separation
He couldn't say exactly when it fell off, was sometime during the night when he was asleep. But when he woke up in the morning, the ring finger of his left hand was off, tucked underneath the pillow
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Short Fiction
Only the Worms Know
Every morning when I wake up, I lean out my window to say hello to Mom. She doesn't reply, but that's okay. She never was a good listener, even before she was buried in our backyard.
My brothe ... [+]
My brothe ... [+]
Short Fiction
Joey Button
Joey Button didn't know how long he'd been peddling his bike when he saw it, but whenever he'd recall the moment, he'd remember that his legs were tired, so it'd probably been a while. It didn't
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Short Fiction
Slice of Life
1 min
Swimming Home
Twenty years ago, I took my daughter, Sara, to the ocean for her fourth birthday. She just learned to dog paddle, and proudly walked up to anyone in sight, saying, "I can swim." The sea was calm, so I
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Short Fiction
Mirror, Mirror
There once was a glassblower who lived by the sea. In the daring years of his youth, the glassblower would pull all kinds of strange and wonderful shapes from out of colored glass. He blew neon spires
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Short Fiction
Memory Sands
I woke up from an untroubled sleep and remembered nothing.
***
Some days I envy Gregor Samsa. He woke up from a troubled sleep and found himself transformed into a giant ... [+]
***
Some days I envy Gregor Samsa. He woke up from a troubled sleep and found himself transformed into a giant ... [+]
Short Fiction
Crossing the Line
They sat alone in the back of the sweltering Chevy, their plump pink thighs stuck to the seat. Suzie glared at her brother's hand crossing the sacred middle line, slithering forward like a snake
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Short Fiction
The Maestro
If he's being honest, he wishes he was at home with a Bourbon and a good book. He's never been one for pageantry. But the party is to honor him. The other retiring faculty members too, of course. But
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Short Fiction
A Cup of Chicanery
"Mrs. Crump?"
The man frowning at Madge through the screen door had stolen a letter from the mailbox earlier in the week, so he knew the surname.
"Yes," Madge replied.
"I'm Harold Bates from the ... [+]
The man frowning at Madge through the screen door had stolen a letter from the mailbox earlier in the week, so he knew the surname.
"Yes," Madge replied.
"I'm Harold Bates from the ... [+]
Short Fiction
Where I See Myself in 150 Years or Less
Working toward sainthood this summer solved some of my problems. For one, my daily-Mass-going mother got off my back about getting a job and moving out permanently. Plus, it gave her something to brag
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