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Short Stories

Fiction

Safe Face

To save face, turn away from the sun. Turn away from the spatter of cold rain against the cheek, away from the hard light of the moon at its roundest, away from the snow-flecked wind, away from the barky scratch at the fork of an oak.

Fiction

Autogas Ferryman

Krungthep means “The City of Gods.” A much more charming name than the bawdy Bangkok that foreigners joke about. But to Somsak, it is the city of ghosts. He drives his taxi slowly along through the glittering blocks of shopping malls, the neon signs of Yaowarat restaurants.

Fiction

Bunny Ears

Hannah’s first impression of Colden Hills Music Camp is that, for a place with “hills” and “music” right in the name, it’s too flat and way, way too quiet, and the one thing she initially thinks must be a weird rustic flute propped up against the side of the welcome cabin turns out to be just an extra-straight stick.

Fiction

Hungry Ghosting

Used to be, you’d buy paper offerings and burn them to provide for your ancestors. Spirit money ensured they were taken care of in the underworld and wouldn’t have to roam the pitted streets of the afterlife suffering from starvation or homelessness. In this way, you could help your late loved ones avoid the terrible fate of becoming hungry ghosts.

Fiction

Asking for It

The first and last time Calvin asks me about ghosts is on our fourth date. He wears green because I told him it was my favorite color. His hair is freshly cut, and his jaw still bleeding from a hurried shave. I smile at these small things he’s placing before me as an offering.

Fiction

Edgar Addison, the Author of Dévorer (1862-1933)

For such an infamous book, the original edition Dévorer is decidedly ordinary. It is a small, clothbound book, written in French. It is one hundred and forty-seven pages long. It was privately printed by its author, Edgar Addison, in the final years of his life.

Fiction

Here I Go Again

This woman—walking alone, at night—is going to be killed. Here I go again. Watch my finger. See how the passive voice takes you by the hand? See how it leads you to understand the object and the verb? The trouble is, it leaves out the deliverer of the sentence.

Fiction

Notes from the Graft Failure

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Fiction

Beak

The landlord requires proof of the infestation, and proof—per clause twelve, subsection three of the lease—must come in the form of a living specimen, safely contained. A dead specimen is insufficient, he has repeatedly explained.

Fiction

Glory Hole

“Happy birthday, my love. You deserve this.” Bruce lifted the blindfold and waited, counting the heartbeats, as my eyes acclimated to the harsh lighting. Above us, bare fluorescent bulbs flickered and sputtered in their aluminum housing.

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