There are big curse words and little curse words in anybody’s language. A little cursing isn’t hardly cursing at all. A child could do it and everyone round the supper table would laugh, turn red, and stick a bun in that sour young mouth while secretly making a note to tell every one of their friends just what their beastly wee urchin had said last night on the subject of his pea soup.
Read MoreThe QuidnunxI used to go to thrift stores with my friends. We’d take the train into Boston, and go to The Garment District, which is this huge vintage clothing warehouse. Everything is arranged by color, and somehow that makes all of the clothes beautiful.
Read MoreThe Faery HandbagTwo dozen seemingly identical chips rested atop small black stands, displayed on the shelves like treasure. James reached into the wide rosewood cabinet to inspect one of the pieces. It was the size of a thick poker chip. An almost perfect circle of bone.
Read MoreCollecting JamesI twist out of the flames as a hundred kilos of heroic wagon driver slams into me, carrying me to the ground. He wraps me in something wooly and rough—bison robes. In the fire I could hear the crackle of burning wood, the whoosh of my dress igniting. Now the only sound is Tasunke’s ragged breathing. Then the prairie orchestra: a symphony of crickets fiddling in the night. Finally, the alarmed voices of the others.
Read MoreThe Laura Ingalls Experience
“Sorry, sorry,” I said to her, then looked up and found the man-shaped thing with the huge head in our way. It startled me. I felt my brother so near to me in that moment. I smelled hash and heard his voice, speaking one of his koans. For a split-second I imagined myself in some vast desert, pouring out a bucket of dirty water.
Read MoreThe Teratologist’s BrotherOn Sunday when Dolly awakened, she had olive skin and black-brown hair that fell in waves to her hips. On Tuesday when Dolly awakened, she was a redhead, and fair. But on Thursday — on Thursday her eyes were blue, her hair was as black as a crow’s-wing, and her hands were red with blood.
Read MoreDolly
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.
Read MoreDeath Flowers of Never-Forgotten LoveYou asked me to tell you what happened so here goes. I’m going to write it in this notebook. I hope you can read my handwriting, my hands are shaking so bad. I need to be thorough. I have to tell you everything.
Read MoreScreaming Without a MouthA thing that wore Johnny Carson’s face came over, light on its feet. “Tonight I’m delighted to say we have the famous Agent Dydimus with us!” he said. The audience applauded. It was the same people from the courthouse, the same people, he realised, who had gathered to listen to him up by the old church.
Read MoreAgent of V.A.L.I.S.