fiction
-
The road had no name, which was probably why she trusted it. Named things came with expectations. Destinations. Promises. Graves. She had learned enough about all four. She left before sunrise with one bag, half a tank of gas, and nothing in the back seat worth turning around for. For the first hundred miles, she…
-
I closed my eyes because someone told me the answers were inside. I thought that was bullshit. Most advice given to people who don’t know what to do with their lives eventually involves breathing. Breathe deeply. Be present. Clear your mind. As if the mind has ever agreed to be cleared simply because someone asked…
-
There was a woman living in my house who looked exactly like me. I noticed her before I saw her. That is how these things usually begin. Not with apparitions standing at the foot of the bed or doors slamming themselves in the middle of the night. Nothing so theatrical. It began with a coffee…
-
The knock came before sunrise. Three slow strikes against the door. Not desperate. Official. The woman inside was already awake. She had been sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of something that had gone cold hours ago, listening to the wind scrape branches against the roof. The knock came again. She did not…
-
Before they called her dangerous, they called her divine. That is the part of the story they tend to leave out. Before there were warnings whispered about women who knew too much, there were women people traveled miles to find. Women who understood the moon before anyone bothered naming its phases. Women who knew which…
-
Actually, I’m my mother’s revenge. The voice she didn’t have, the boundaries she couldn’t keep, the consequence nobody expected when they mistook her kindness for permission. Her story isn’t yours to tell. But tell them all I’m coming. Not for blood. That would be too easy. I am coming for the things women like her…
-
Some people are merely reading the chapters of their life as they are exposed, not everyone can be a writer. There is something unsettling about realizing you have been holding the book upside down. You thought the blank pages meant you were supposed to fill them. You thought the pen belonged to you. It never…
