No roads led here, this place like a scar of an old wound. No signs marked its location, no post hung with its name. There was no map of its existence or a print of paper for it to claim. Long ago,
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“3 A.M./Stare at the ceilin’, murder the feelin’/Spider crawl in the corner—Brown Recluse./So appropriate” I rap, far too passionately. Honestly, there is no excuse for my obsession with Childish Gambino. It ruins everything. No, seriously. Because he’s basically made every reference under
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I text Alicia that I’m outside and when she responds, I’m already ringing the doorbell. the text was just a courtesy. whether she’s ready for this interview or not is of no concern to me. I need to see this for myself.
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On a nimbus of decay, it emerged from the dark recesses of her closet and crept spiderlike toward her threadbare rug. Humid cold wafted from its shadowy body. The reek of wet mulch and grave soil slithered into her nostrils and she
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It was a bitterly cold November evening, fifteen minutes or so before closing when the young man first walked into Tia Adelina’s botanica. He was clearly homeless. Swathed in what looked like a tattered old bedsheet, he shuffled in from the cold.
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They were floating, flying in tandem, punctuated by the last of the year’s sunlight, perfectly together. Nothing could separate them. The voices of children, the rush of the wind, the first pinpricks of winter’s chill all passed by, but for them, there
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The first time she noticed, it was purely accidental. A quick glance while reaching for a towel on the nearby rack. The pleasant burn from the Listerine lingered in her newly minty mouth when her gaze flickered to the mirror. It was
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The fireflies hovered in front of me, their green bodies emitting a radio buzz with their wings. Crickets hummed and perched themselves in trees as a lone frog breached the surface of a creek nearby. Gallons of pressure were placed atop my
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When Sunduq was four she got stuck in the hope chest in her grandmother’s bedroom. Her family looked for her for hours, eventually calling the authorities, who said, “Most children who go missing are actually inside their own houses.” They came to
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It was called “Tika Zika”. They gave us instructions to lock ourselves away from each other. No neighbors, friends, nothing–no matter what. My niece played with my daughter a few steps away when the alert flashed on my tablet. We were told
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Melam partially unzipped the full body control unit and took a deep breath. It was crafted from lightweight fabric, yet designed to fit snuggly enough to capture the most microscopic of movements. Her usual avatar control unit, just gloves and boots, was
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