“She wonders what curse this is, to swing from life to life, grief to grief, with no control.”
FICTION | NONFICTION | POETRY
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All in Fiction
“She wonders what curse this is, to swing from life to life, grief to grief, with no control.”
“He said he made the cranes in order to make a wish, though he didn’t tell you what it was, only that it didn’t come true.”
“Shit. I feel like I’m whispering all of this when I should really be shouting.”
“‘This land isn’t empty, it’s full of ghosts, you just can’t see them.' She says it flat, matter of fact, no judgement at all.”
“I feared the unfamiliar that winged within my own female form.”
“When I open the door, I face the drooping sun. The light in my face is bright, not warm.”
“He jumps, flashing the phones a shaka sign as he soars.”
“…it seemed the farther they traveled from home, the closer they were to those stars.”
“I’d hear this man’s footsteps above me when in bed, trying to trap the sound of his feet with my eyes…”
“…I can see it’s a black, shrunken stick about ten feet high, stripped of the bark I once ran my fingers over.”
“I remember the sun was high in the sky and the clearing held a holy quiet, like no human feet had ever marred its face. So, of course I followed.”
“…my parents’ divorce agreement, a tarot deck, an armadillo that sang a funny song when you squeezed its belly…”
“He’s not unreasonable, he tells me. But he’s genuinely alarmed by the extent of the first-round edits.”
“The sky peels back like a tinfoil lid and something putrid creeps in...”
“Everything was ours, our reality untamed by time and misogyny, and the price we’d pay for living remained alien to us.”
“If ever a saint could be described as not giving any fucks, it would be her.”
“He loved the sense that sex could be an intervention between two people.”
“I’ve seen too much writing lately that makes metaphors of hunger.”