Nonfiction
Jason Sanford

How Can You Be?

It’s overwhelming. It often feels difficult to do anything more than continually scream from the pain we experience day in and day out.

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Short Fiction
Jason Sanford

The Ever-Dreaming Verdict of Plagues

Crista nodded calmly but Red Day shrieked inside her, eager to enact its justice on this self-admitted killer. As Red Day’s anger exploded, the AI seized control of Crista’s right hand and grabbed one of her knives. With a shout of no, Crista ran up the stairs. After bolting the cellar door shut she stumbled to the porch and vomited. 

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Short Fiction
Jason Sanford

The Eight-Thousanders

He spoke once, the words whispered by frozen lips on a face so frostbitten he looked like a porcelain doll. I found him below the summit as our expedition bottlenecked before the Hillary Step on our final ascent of Mount Everest.

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Short Fiction
Jason Sanford

Death Flowers of Never-Forgotten Love

He rests like frozen time in the coffin—his face embalmed to wax, his cheeks flushed to rouge and an ever-sparkling smile on lips I’d kissed only days ago. Family and friends file by his body muttering inconsequentials, disbelief.

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Short Fiction
Jason Sanford

Here We Are, Falling Through Shadows

Miker drove our fire engine through the dark neighborhood, the red emergency lights flash-synching to the deep bass of the rumbler siren. Parked cars and flower gardens and mailboxes flashed by, illuminated for seconds before sliding back to night.

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