FICTION

“Fiction is the lie through which we tell the truth.”
Albert Camus
Here in East Greenwich

He used to hold my hand on Commonwealth. I wonder sometimes if he ever still thinks about my mouth.

The Rupture

Before the headaches began, I thought myself sturdy: firm in my foundations, set square like a saltbox house.

Chrysalis

To be encased, Clint had always thought, was foolishness. Why allow yourself to be open to such sorrow?

You and Jane

You’ve been dreading this day since the moment you found out you were pregnant—perhaps even before.

What Did I Mention To Ya?

Ever since your son brought you here, things have been different. He was crying when he dropped you off. You still don’t know why.

view of earth from space
The Scattering

Allanson looked out of the viewport, at the ragtag flotilla of ships trailing behind, some of them slow to catch up. It was to be expected with the little time that they’d had to cobble the fleet together.

rotarty phone
My Wife’s Phone

Sex is not a thank you card in this house.

When Robin Hood Was Caught Dead To Rights

and on and on and on and on they ran, the Merry Men, running from a hundred and one arrows bought with taxes stolen twice over…

sun in clouds
The Rapture

I don’t know why I was still talking about the rapture. I certainly didn’t believe in it. Regardless, it remained a thief…

Little Cow

A man with a fistful of showbags said, “That cow sounds like a person trying to sound like a cow.”

graffiti on cement
Slabs

We drifted junk with a sledgehammer looking for juice. Sometimes the rage.

Junk

It was spring and the hills were irradient, like they had to get out all their green in one short burst before catching fire.

homecoming king and queen
Point Pleasant

Hitting up homes peopled by those with nothing much to lose was an easy score. The less you had, the less likely you were to defend it. But this home was different. Its residents had a lot to lose and the will to fight for it.

The Drift

And then he feels that familiar sensation of drifting—when his body untethers from the material world and he soon dissolves into a fine, floating mist that evaporates into the atmosphere.

Darkness always follows.

photo of windshield
Mother and Her Remains

Mama sped along the highway, unbothered by bits of gravel that flew up from the front tires and struck the windshield of the sedan.

The Rift

None speak of how the streets collide in coarse seams like scars, the fresh cobbles unable to level with the ones shaken from their mortar by uncountable seasons.

Your Glass Mouth

A tortured simper uncoils itself across my mouth as I open another bottle of Penis wine.

Submission

Directly after the arrival of the Armada, this model made sense, as the gap between Unthulanian and Human cultures prevented a commensurable exchange of practices…

Greetings From Baja California!

Sitting at the bar on Pacific Avenue. With the seashells in the walls. Same bartender from last year, still here, making the same lethal Mai Tais.

salt lake
Climb The Highest Mountain

When I was on earth I was a pretty good kid. I only got drunk when I needed to get drunk.

Share some abandon.

[Sassy_Social_Share]