“You ready?” Cory asked, a look of anticipation glowing in his eyes.

“Almost,” Sophia answered, stretching out her arms as though she were balanced on a tightrope.

Continue reading… "The Funeral"

I sleep through my alarm. Sometimes, I let the hell-clock buzz for more than an hour. Sometimes, in the throes of a delicious sleep fantasy, I convince myself that I must have made a mistake in setting it the night before.

Continue reading… "Dreams"

In the intense, deadening, stagnant afternoon heat, Bulawayo city house dwellers willingly allowed their droopy eyelids to fall, while sitting in soft armchairs or lying on satin bed covers.

Continue reading… "Bulawayo Afternoon"

The gun in Isaiah’s hand looks fake. He smiles, ranged dramatically across the floor in front of the whiteboard, weight on his forward leg like Tybalt in the swordfight scene. His naked weapon is out. We all think

Continue reading… "Roll"

“I woke up to the sound of pouring rain…” Not exactly, but that’s what was blasting out of John’s speakers as I slowly opened my eyes and struggled to recall just exactly what my position in the world was. My internal GPS

Continue reading… "On the Road"

Not that gin-sweat dizzies her. Not that wool chafes her cheek when he dances them through the house, stumbling to spin her white nightie, her body still soft with sleep. No, this is not to suggest that her uncle has a

Continue reading… "Such Things Hardly Matter"

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. The first line of Olivia’s favorite poem by Sylvia Plath drifts into her head as she staggers down the black hall, waiting for the little peach pill to work its magic.

Continue reading… "Mad Girl’s Love Story"

Sometime in early July, her heart began to blubber. At least, that’s what Minna decided to call it, blubbering, as it wasn’t flutter, something light and dreamy as a summer butterfly. It wasn’t just a skip, like a stone thrown for hop scotch. It was a deep, lumbering growl, a blubber of movement, action plus blood, a flop in her heart like heavy gas, enough to leave her stunned and pale. But still alive.

Continue reading… "Heart of July"

To many, Martin Leonard appeared the epitome of suburban failure. Lost in any gathering, no matter how small, he knew how replaceable he was. Not only in his work as a bookkeeper at the Dalton regional tax office, which he executed to a standard barely sufficient to maintain his position, but in his home as well. His wife Nevena, who had added fifty-five pounds to her once athletic frame in their fifteen years together, had only recently stopped her constant chastisement, replacing her blatant contempt with a new and punishing silence.

Continue reading… "Wolf"

Danny’s bedroom was silent except for the scratch of his yellow number-two pencil across the paper. Mom says Dad is just going to church until the judge decides, Danny wrote. I don’t know. He took Sis and me to church yesterday. Dad knows all the prayers and stuff. And they had chocolate chip cookies.

Continue reading… "Getting It Down"