FICTION
“Fiction is the lie through which we tell the truth.”
The day does not conclude with the gentle exhale of the earth, but with Mother Superior flipping the hourglass over, again.
To be encased, Clint had always thought, was foolishness. Why allow yourself to be open to such sorrow?
I pushed my nose to within an inch from the rug. I sniffed, and sniffed, and I smelled something…not quite right, but I couldn’t place it.
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.
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.
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.
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…
When I was on earth I was a pretty good kid. I only got drunk when I needed to get drunk.
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.
When Laika the space dog comes back, bulleted to earth in a tiny white escape pod that dissolves upon opening, nobody can believe it.
Mama sped along the highway, unbothered by bits of gravel that flew up from the front tires and struck the windshield of the sedan.
On the first day of our new life together, my husband realized that I was not interested in theoretical debate. He said it was okay by him and went out to get some pancake mix.
It was spring and the hills were irradient, like they had to get out all their green in one short burst before catching fire.
A man with a fistful of showbags said, “That cow sounds like a person trying to sound like a cow.”
I don’t know why I was still talking about the rapture. I certainly didn’t believe in it. Regardless, it remained a thief…
You’re joking, I say, interrupting the steady bumping of the doctor’s bushy white mustache.
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.
Share some abandon.
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