Stories

A Note Should Suffice

You’ve lived in this forest a long time. So long, in fact, that you’ve started to name the trees— not the species names, like spruce, cedar, hemlock; those you learned on your grandpa’s nature walks years ago— names like Rela, Sophia, Brett.

A Story, Sure.

I’m not good at beginnings and endings. I have trouble choosing the most impactful points in time for them. …

First, you smell the sulfur.

You feel warm concrete on your fingertips. It creeps to your elbow. For a moment, you think about proximodistal development, whether this would be a good counter-example. Then, you remember what happened. …

She Thought It Was a Good Day

Emma woke up around noon. She opened her eyes, saw her bedpost. Must have fallen off the bed while she slept. A cluster of dust bunnies huddled on the right side of the post. …

I Wanted to Write Something You’d Like

I had just got home from work. I parked my Focus in the driveway. The early-December frost was still lazily slumped in the corners of the curb. …

A Morning in Kroa

The sun rises over the Haurathon, the centerpiece of Kroa. Its spire shoots out 1000 feet above the neighboring buildings. …

At Four in the Morning

The room is filled with the dark of night. Red bricks of light that connect into the shapes of “4:30” are the only light. The numerals imprint on my eyelids. …


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