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Category Archives: Fiction
Escape Hatch of the Agoraphobic Professor
Public space terrified Professor Treadway. If a stray arm were to brush his, he would feign a sneeze to flinch clear. School hallways were the worst. One fortunate result of his blistering dread of contact was that it swelled the … Continue reading
Buyer’s Tour
You can see why I had to bring you here; photographs don’t do justice. I agree, and it’s low maintenance too. Centipedegrass hardly needs mowing. All these flowers are perennials. The house was built for people with other things to … Continue reading
He Came Of Age In A Time Of No Heroes
In November it rains every day, and on the roads that wind up the downs to David Mackey’s house people ramble under umbrellas and in great red/blue/yellow mackintoshes that flap in the accompanying wind, looking like primary-coloured ghosts from some … Continue reading
Shattered
Tom’s wife Marla was carrying the supper dishes to the kitchen when she collapsed and died before reaching the sink. The plates broke into pieces, as did Tom. Now she rested on the fireplace mantel in a midnight blue urn. … Continue reading
The Underground
This is how it started. Arm should never have picked up the turtle. It snapped at me, broke skin. I first noticed the turtle in the bus on my way to campus. No one else had spotted the fist-size turtle … Continue reading
Pelts
The pecan rolled over my tongue. I tried not to breathe through my nose and swallowed quickly, ignoring the metallic blood residue that clung to my taste buds. Did they coat them in human or animal blood today? It didn’t … Continue reading
A Humble Man
You never really know what to expect when going into a funeral, in the case of your grandfather, you really never know. Your speech is fully prepared, he requested his only grandson to give one. You step out of your … Continue reading
A Thing With Teeth
She started with Elena’s books. Sylvia tore out the blank back pages first, then the title pages, the dedications: to my wife, who understands; for Mary Ellen, who asked for this story. Finally, the words themselves, the brittle pages of … Continue reading
Terms
She laughed when she told him her cousins the missionaries would be spending Christmas amidst the savages. “But Mohammedans aren’t savages,” he said, and repented the diamond the moment she neither laughed nor recoiled. Sara Bickley lives and writes in … Continue reading
Go Fast
The taste of salt is always present. Easing from our pores and caking on the back of our neck, our forehead, lower back and behind our knees, only to crumble and fall to the ground when we are home again. … Continue reading
The Geisha Tiresias
How to refer to us? Having left our bodies, have we left gender and selfhood behind with them? We are a team, even a collective—but not quite a hive. Here, the distinction between self and other is slowly eroding. We … Continue reading
Pig
Like he had been doing every morning for the past thirty years, Edgar Boswell trimmed his beard over the bathroom sink. He had high cheekbones that paired well with his ash-white beard, which was thick everywhere except around those bones … Continue reading
Maturity
A small part of the ship’s front dissolved into the vacuum of space and scattered itself across the immediate surroundings. Denna watched a visual representation of the nanomachines from the bridge as they propelled themselves outwards to analyze the area. … Continue reading
The Teachers’ House
The rains came each morning, hard and unwavering, as if they could knock Theresa’s house down the slope of the mountain. Neither she, nor her mother, nor her brother ever slept past four a.m., the worst hour, when their one-room … Continue reading
Giddy for Life
It’s not that I don’t want to as in I would never buy a new car. It’s a nice, autumn day in the park and I shouldn’t mind company. Am I some tragic robot in a space opera of stranded … Continue reading
Dedication
I overheard the barista tell her coworkers, “I make grown men cry and babies wish they were never born.” She knows me as Black Iced Tea Light Ice, Sweetened aka The Writer. I’m sure she knows other regulars with the … Continue reading
Falling
This moment in her life reeks of dream sequence. First, the big game. Then the dance. The night is hazy—a combination of reverie and Pabst Blue Ribbon. The hopeful homecoming romance coming to fruition. His kisses aren’t what she expected; … Continue reading
Dad Shoes
You routinely wear Dad shoes and become a man you don’t know. Conservative polo and khaki pants unrecognizable. You become much like the man who dropped you off a block before school each morning. Who nervously leaned against the bleachers … Continue reading
The Business of Selling Better Jobs
My father started the business with borrowed money and a common man’s dream. He grew tired of seeing his friends sitting on stoops burying faces in blue-collar sleeves, as if they were made for more than this. This being an … Continue reading
Sightseeing
The first house was yellow. An historic shack mimicking melted butter. Front door rotting like a gateway of decay. Widows were painted yearly with a new coat of soot. But over time the residents tired of trespassing tourists taking pictures … Continue reading
The Bowl Thief
Today she would not see the life outside her window as though it were a painting. Her previous years in art school had been defined by studious, objective examination of the world around her. She might have wondered, as she … Continue reading
Killer
After she decided it would be far kinder for her sister to never be born, it was only a matter of planning. Luce sat on the highest level of the driveway’s retaining wall and waited for Kathy to come home. … Continue reading
Milk Aisle, Ten Years Later
According to the Court, they were sisters every Wednesday. In the backseat of their mother’s car: an old station wagon about to give up. They’d sit in the back-back, link pinkies, and watch the world go by in reverse. The … Continue reading
Frozen
A long time ago, during our many summers on Grundvik Island, I would wake up early every Thursday and run down to wait for Jonas Ström and the mail. I’d listen for his hoot in the pale light of morning, … Continue reading
Love
One night when I was ten years old, I found my mum crying in the kitchen. I had awoken in the middle of the night, unsure of what had pulled me out of a bonbon dream that was instantly forgotten. … Continue reading
