In the fire time we lived for days without sunlight or air. You and I grew up in the eastern Washington desert, the dry side of the Cascades, where we spoke of rain the way we spoke of the dead: with reverence, with longing, without hope of return. We lived in the country, and I […]
Fiction
Rachel Chalmers: Light Industrial
1. A streak of blood “Darling, it’s me, Pats,” says the telephone. John wipes the crunchy bits out of the corners of his eyes and tries to wake up. “Talked Nige into it. You’re on. Can you start today? Before he changes his mind. When can you be here?” It’s seven am. “Come as soon […]
Catherine Parnell: Sirens
My father calls twice from the small hospital in our town – the first time he says: “They are working on her.” The second time, less than three minutes later, he says: “Your mother is dead.” I tell him to stay where he is, that I will come and get him, that he can’t drive […]
Mariko Nagai: How We Touch the Ground, How We Touch
As usual, another season of betrayal must follow the harvest. During the harvest, we are safe. On the field, we whisper half a phrase and hum fragmented sounds of words amongst us, messages of the Carpenter-Son hidden in broken phrases of weather and harvest. We bend our backs to cut the stalks, huddling as close […]
Elizabeth Green: Taste
It’s the hottest day so far. I really like it here. I like the open lawns, the trees, the nurses in their white. How they stand out against the green grass. I like the big white building I get to eat and sleep in. It’s nice not to fear the place I sleep in. To […]
C.S. Ellis: Molotov’s Dogs
May 26. We limped out of the badlands at night. Las Vegas was a million screaming lights. The car almost crapped out at the halfway point, the fuel pump is shot. I was worried that we would break down in the desert and die of thirst. Sand would cover our bones and nobody would ever […]