Short Story
Guttersnipe
My grandmother kept pigeons on the roof of our row house in Baltimore. Not the fancy kind—just city birds, gray and purple and blue, with eyes like drops of oil. She called them her “sky-rats.” Every morning she’d climb the pull-down ladder in the hallway, the one with the missing third rung, and I’d hear the scrape of the aluminum door, the flutter, her low murmuring in Polish.
By Nwama Godspromise 9 months ago in Fiction
Notes on Afterwards
I can no longer think about anything. I simply savor the moments when I can close my eyes and let myself be carried away by the memories of that night. Desire burns me, devours me, paralyzes me. Abrupt sentences, monosyllabic words, insults, linguistic pirouettes—from god to whore—loop endlessly in my head. It’s the moment when one no longer knows how to speak, like a newborn, the moment when the verb is not yet there. The moment when one feels the present instant in all its nuances: through touch, sight, taste, smell. The moment when one almost no longer exists. No, when one truly no longer exists, especially as an individual being. It is the moment of absolute fusion with another. It is the moment of coït. With two dots on a single i.
By Anastasia Tsarkova9 months ago in Fiction
The Growl Only I Could Hear
My town was the sort where nothing happened. Law enforcement was bored, and as a result, parking tickets were pretty common. It was the sort of town where the only skatepark didn’t have anything more interesting than a half-pipe, and not more than six feet at that. It didn’t even have walls. And it was right across from a horse pasture, with an old folks’ home a block up and the elementary school a block down.
By ThatOne_Girl9 months ago in Fiction
Tall Timmy & the Top Hat
Timmy wasn’t just short—he was the shortest seventh grader in his class. In his school. In his town, even. He had to stand on his tippy toes to reach the faucet in the restroom. He had to suck in his breath and reach for his lunch tray until his back cracked. He had to find small windows of space in the horde of classmates during dismissal, just to spot his mom’s car. She frequently circled the pick-up line, as if she were a fixture on the worst carousel ever.
By SUEDE the poet9 months ago in Fiction
An Architecture of Returning
Part One: The Selection After the wound, you must move. Act quickly. This does not have to be a physical motion. Select something you love. This need not be a place you can touch. This can even be a place inside you. It will always be safe. It will always be protected. It’s where you can go, and where all your thoughts will stop swirling.
By Anne Spollen9 months ago in Fiction
Beginning of the End
I screamed, my voice raw, the sound of it lost amongst the wailing rising around me. I stumbled out into the street, blankets wrapped around my shoulders and trailing on the ground behind me, the door wide open behind me. Pieces littered the street-of what, I didn’t want to think about. I slipped in something warm and wet, and refused to look down as my stomach roiled. I kept screaming, but I couldn’t even hear my own voice. Branches blocked the end of the street, the ground mostly frozen and slick beneath my toes. The sky was still gray, the remnants
By Phoenixica249 months ago in Fiction
The CEO’s Bitter Game
Avery Sinclair had spent the last three years rebuilding what her family had lost. Her father’s company, once a thriving enterprise, had been ruined in a single deal orchestrated by Damien Blackwood — the ruthless CEO whose name still made her blood boil. But Avery had a plan. She would rise, stronger and smarter, and one day, she would make him pay.
By Millicent Chisom9 months ago in Fiction
