Fiction

  It was 1987, and I was eighteen years old. My parents made me get a post-graduation summer job in the cafeteria of the local college, a liberal arts school founded in the 1800s by a religious sect I’d never … Read More

  Callie and I were thirteen the summer of ‘87, the summer the Los Angeles Lakers won the World Championship. During the school months, we were required to wear the Saint Vibiana uniform, only the purple and gold of our … Read More

  There were all sorts of holes in Moriko’s story, but for $4,000, it wasn’t my place to point them out. She claimed to be an art dealer with works that she wanted to return to their rightful owners—an indigenous … Read More

  Zakir could not recall when or how he first caught sight of the watchers. No more than a silhouette on a rooftop, a pair of knowing eyes in a passing taxi, or a waxy face peeping up through a … Read More

  You won’t have heard about what happened to my brother. Not on the news, certainly. With things on like wars and hurricanes, the news doesn’t have much time for stories about young boys—their small miracles, their small disasters. I … Read More

  And the barbarous people shewed us no little kindness: for they kindled a fire, and received us every one, because of the present rain, and because of the cold. And when Paul had gathered a bundle of sticks, and … Read More

  There was blood. And unspeakable pain, which rolled and clenched in hard, burning waves. Sarah spent two days in the bathroom, watching the summer rains through the window and squeezing the washcloth her wife Tess had gently placed in … Read More

  I met Gabe Dove when I was sad and attracting men who liked me sad. There was the jeweler with goopy eyes, the lawyer who overtexted. Men with lotioned hands, combed beards, tight jeans. Many had allergies. Few ate … Read More

  The snake is back. It’s in the middle of the living room and it has taken a bite of its tail. It’s eating itself. Or maybe not eating, just…I don’t know, I don’t want to know. What has possessed … Read More

  Spring rains had cut little gullies into the caliche topping beyond the cattle guard. Washed out the soil beneath right down to the hardpan. I got off my bike and followed the curves of the lane up the rise … Read More

  That last night at home, Michael sat with his father at the fireside, barely an arm’s reach apart, the turf in the hearth between them burning shades of fox-fur and rose hip. Sean’s age lay heavy on frame and … Read More

  Each night at dusk we built our fire in the usual spot, back from the water’s edge, camouflaged by white-barked birches and scraggly pines. We sprawled our bodies across the rocks and logs that encircled this makeshift hearth. Finally, … Read More