
Short Fiction

The Wreck of the Medusa
She surfaced again last night, the creature, to say more riddles. There is no malice in the way she speaks, as if she either cannot
Strange. Surreal. Shocking. Beautiful.
Strange. Surreal. Shocking. Beautiful.
She surfaced again last night, the creature, to say more riddles. There is no malice in the way she speaks, as if she either cannot
It comes with age, she said. Your skin grows tough and strong, until it doesn’t feel the pain. I believed her, then.
Everyone knew you didn’t bring a forest story into the desert. But monster stories were usually set in the woods. Countless narratives with the same
All the best stories start with desperation. A want so large it twists like hunger pangs tying your stomach up in knots. Jackie knows a
The delicious hotness of 98.7-degree blood was like drinking a fine, expensive wine. Whatever they fed him, they made sure it tantalized our senses, too.
Subtly, the Daisy intimates that she’s flattered to receive this unexpected male attention. Again, it’s a careful negotiation—not a dance, like other young ladies might
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