The Fisher Princess V
The Fisher Princess I / The Fisher Princess II / The Fisher Princess III / The Fisher Princess IV He licks his upper teeth, tongue bulging from under the pink skin above his mouth. He shuffles a stack...
View Article“SOMETHING TRUE”
I am sitting at the desk, patiently enduring the chill coming from the single-pane window, blinking away the fog of tiredness that saps my strength like a deer tick squatting on my brain, like a sea...
View ArticleBliss Point (Full Story)
Writing this was an experiment (on some level, though, I suppose writing anything is an experiment). I didn’t have an end in mind, or even a beginning or a middle, when I started writing. Instead, what...
View ArticleBathing in the Styx
Lying on the grass, my hands folded over my chest, I look upwards, the whole of my vision turning green, gold, and baby blue as I look through the irregular sheaf of leaves, branches, and sparkling air...
View ArticleTow Away Lane
Flying over the nighttime geometry of Tokyo, en route to rejoin my boyfriend across the ocean, I turn my face to the view below, feeling the 20,000-foot chill as intensely as an ice cube in my mouth....
View ArticleEmpty mind
New year, new me. New year, new opportunity to stalk my soul down the corridor, across the river, over the mountain, and around my bedroom. Sliding my pointer finger across my broken phone screen, I...
View ArticleBeauty secret
She is twenty-three years old. She is sitting on the subway, gaze trained on the smartphone cradled in her hands. Her biggest problem right now is that her preferred hair salon is closed for the next...
View ArticleAmbulance ride
In a chain coffee shop on a busy street, sitting in booth seats upholstered in wine-colored imitation velvet, the babble of strangers around us like a shield of white noise, Gideon tells me he’s been...
View ArticleLong ago
The bottles in the bar shine like carved gemstones. The wooden stool creaks underneath me as I wait, shifting noticeably from one leg to another. My drink is served by a blonde waitress whose gift, I...
View ArticlePanic attack
There are experiences in my life that act like time machines. Specific combinations of color, sound, odor, all churning together into a cyclone of sensation that I breathe in without realizing, like an...
View ArticleRoutines of the Apocalypse
She did the calculations in her mind, lying supine on the bus stop bench by the boardwalk. Nearly six hours would be needed to walk the distance between the seaside city of Perla, where she now lay,...
View ArticleOlympias Prana: A Biography (I)
Chapter III: Earthbound In 2250, after the death of her mother, Olympias returned to Earth. “Shell of a woman,” she wrote in her diary, in all-caps, referring, possibly, to both herself and to the dead...
View ArticleContrapasso of the butterfly
With a disconcertingly cheerful chime, my phone announces the arrival of a text from Gideon. I shift my attention over to the rectangle of light, underneath the bed covers, that glows like a predatory...
View ArticleGalatea, Associate Manager
I rub my face with the flat of my hand. Behind my eyes, a fractured kaleidoscope slowly rotates, releasing small shards of multicolored glass that fall onto my lap, radiating light in the dimness of my...
View ArticleHypercritical
(A successor of sorts to: Hypervigilant) On location, huddled behind a huge and craggy boulder with the wind howling at me to get OUT, I hurriedly sweep the few things scattered around me into a bag,...
View ArticleThe Red Pool
I stop in the middle of the crosswalk because I want to write about this scene later. I linger for as long as I can, eyes scanning the sky, the ground, the trees. Time is a tyrannical taskmaster, but...
View ArticleOlympias Prana: A Biography (II)
Chapter VI: Betrayal of the lamb Andie Lamb was born Assumpta II, the scion of a prominent exo-colony dynasty. Her grandmother, Assumpta I, had successfully negotiated the purchase of the Moon’s entire...
View ArticleThe best they could, but badly
Often I wish that I had natural singing talent, because I think the chalky, malodorous melancholia which I am prone to writing would be more palatable in the form of lyrics. When I hear that my last...
View ArticleGhosts
This is the last post I will write about Gideon, because I have the feeling that he is fading—not out of life in general, but out of my life, specifically. A tremulous line of salt on the craggy blue...
View ArticleLike if you cry every time
What is a post on social media? Five liters of blood, poured out onto a metal baking tray, where it congeals into cubes of quivering jelly before being flipped out onto the cool chrome surface of the...
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