FICTION
“Fiction is the lie through which we tell the truth.”
You’re joking, I say, interrupting the steady bumping of the doctor’s bushy white mustache.
I reached for my invoice, which Dr. George, holding it between thumb and forefinger as if it were a soiled diaper, dropped into my hand.
I don’t know why I was still talking about the rapture. I certainly didn’t believe in it. Regardless, it remained a thief…
At the end of the meeting, the villagers agreed to contribute shillings and pounds to sponsor Elochi to a university in America.
I know you shouldn’t keep wild animals as pets, but I’ve had the same spider in my bathroom sink for over two weeks.
You’ve been dreading this day since the moment you found out you were pregnant—perhaps even before.
I’d never heard of anyone having a second baby right after the first one, but everything was so strange in those early days of motherhood that I just acted on instinct.
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…
The most entertaining thing about Miguel is that when he was 13 he dislocated his shoulder playing basketball and can now pop it in and out of place. There is nothing particularly interesting about Miguel.
A tortured simper uncoils itself across my mouth as I open another bottle of Penis wine.
To be encased, Clint had always thought, was foolishness. Why allow yourself to be open to such sorrow?
The young boy goes to bed and kisses his mother goodnight. He goes to bed and closes his eyes and wishes his family good sleep.
Mama sped along the highway, unbothered by bits of gravel that flew up from the front tires and struck the windshield of the sedan.
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.
I loved Rena as much as a patient could love their gynecologist. We had tea together in her office. I cried when she asked how I was doing, and she showed me pictures of her terriers.
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.
Before the headaches began, I thought myself sturdy: firm in my foundations, set square like a saltbox house.
“The woman was a catastrophe,” Carlos told me at the time. “But she was as honest as my face is ugly.”
Share some abandon.
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