I am not going to begin this story at the beginning. That would be the easy thing, and stories are not easy.
Read MoreHaruspicy and Other Amatory Divinations
Toward the end of January, Joe was caught eating Proust, dipping each page in linden tea. This was how Bette knew it was hopeless. The man she’d known for fifty years would never have eaten Swann’s Way.
Read MoreWhat You’ve Been MissingMISTER JOHNSON: Thanks for your help everybody. I think we’ve collected even more than we did in last year’s good drive.
Read MoreThe Creature in Your NeighborhoodThese are not all the same man, but they could be.
On a muted television:
He smirks like he’s found the way out of an impossible maze, like he hasn’t a care in the world. Except that if you look in his eyes, you’ll see the breadcrumbs leading right back to the labyrinth.
Read MoreThis Is a Ghost StoryIt ended when Jack found her heart in the midden. It was undigested and wet with saliva, buried in thorny durian husks.
Read MoreThe Jackal’s WeddingThe air inside the small Temple chamber was cool despite the heat of summer, and the thin turquoise curtains kept out errant flies. Even the sacred symbols painted on the walls with bold blue and red strokes radiated tranquility.
Read MoreRecordings of a More Personal NatureWith a scream, Sean sat bolt upright throwing off the covers. Eight months after the accident, the crimson dreams still wrenched him from his sleep at least once a night. He staggered to his feet. From past experience he knew that if he stayed in bed, the nightmare would return.
Read MoreShatterThe curses were the loveliest, and most satisfying, to paint. She could see them in her mind, even before she picked up a brush, pulsing and glowing with color in careful, delicate patterns.
Read MoreAn Assault of Color
Every lining has a cloud, be it a worn spot, a mended seam, or an unraveled thread. They are neither perfect nor impenetrable, no matter how much we wish it so. People will tell you that damage makes the fabric stronger.
Read MoreGrey in the Gauge of His Storm