Short Fiction
Marie Croke

Your Space Between

The part where our jackets and gloves and hats and umbrellas and sweaters and boots and gray storage bins all written on neatly with Papa’s handwriting disappeared. Along with you.

Read More »
Short Fiction
Marie Croke

To Seek Himself Again

The lady possessed all her fingers. Even the useless fifths wiggled in obscure movements as she stroked the vines drooping from the terrariums and grazing the aquariums below. With curiosity bordering on the obscene, Keba sank the viper’s coils that made up his neck that he might gander at the lady’s feet, but they were tucked away neatly inside laced boots. If she’d traded a toe away, it had not been for something larger.

Read More »