Current IssueIssue 127Short Fiction

Thresher of Men

The goddess had lived a million lives.
As a child, she had raced Sister Sun across the endless savannahs of Home, singing songs that inspired queens for a thousand years.
Fly, sister! Dance with us across the sky!
Oh! See how she frowns!
Much later, she had traveled in the bellies of slave ships, listening to the voices of her people as they cried for her, never knowing that she rode beside them in the deepening darkness. She had watched her people sundered from their histories and wept for the beloved ripped from her million loving hearts. And at the end of every life, the parts of her that lived in them had also gone into that darkness.

Current IssueIssue 127Short Fiction

Dogwood Stories

“Well, back in the days, a long time ago, the dogwood was strong, as strong as the oak tree. The people who kilt Jesus used the dogwood to make the crosses people was crucified on. The dogwood was a killin’ tree. So when they kilt Jesus on the cross, God twisted the dogwood, punished it by making its limbs thin and skinny …”
“So no one could be crucified on them anymore,” Sadie finished, her heart hammering in glee.