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Fiction

Fiction

The Tugwort

They went to the island not to save the marriage—for the marriage hadn’t yet occurred—but to save the possibility of the marriage. It’d been a rough year, Carla knew. The details were banal. Stress at work and stress at home. The economy collapsing. The political system collapsing. The planet burning. Despite all this, when her fiancé, Anton, proposed a vacation, she balked.

Fiction

In Our Skin

Mother’s blade slides into the soft skin at the nape of my neck, sharp and eager. She doesn’t falter the way she does when it’s Maddy’s turn. No cooing or crying. No reassurances as she slices through the spot where—no matter how brief a time Mother lets me stay Awake—my skin fuses to our underbody.

Fiction

The Sound a Rabbit Might Make

Inspiration: A relationship—everything but the drill.

Fiction

God of the Black Moon

Sam met Haley at a house party in the suburbs where everyone hung out in the basement, smoking inside and listening to a band called Belladonna play songs that lasted seven minutes. Sam was drunk and high on psychedelic mushrooms. To him, the basement had the quality of a bomb shelter; the world outside had been turned to ash. He didn’t mind this idea.

Fiction

Karabasan

Today his family comes to formally ask my parents—my father—for my hand. They will sit in our front room, the best room, and make small talk as his mother eyes me up and down. Her razor eyes will take in every detail and turn them into flaws and my mother will silently accept her disapproval by not saying a word.

Fiction

They Bought a House

The idea for this story began in my final week at the Clarion Writers Workshop. I wanted to write a haunted house horror story using stripped language, but unsurprisingly, it became strange and detailed and maximalist. It’s the perfect piece to summarize my time at Clarion, as it was collectively inspired by all the great stories I read over the summer of 2023.

Fiction

The Morning Room

In the morning room everything is bright and clean, florals and pastels. My wife says it looks tacky and childish, but after some pleading, she agrees not to touch the decorations. The faint lavender-colored walls I hang with dried pressed flowers in clear-plastic frames. The couch is the most expensive thing I ever bought.

Fiction

Before and After

Some days I felt close to that line where awareness ends. Beyond that border I would become someone else’s memory. I knew eventually even that erratic existence would fade. I knew you went through this, and I wondered what you saw and what you felt, lying there with your eyes closed.

Fiction

Wait, Our Lord the Flayed One Comes

This piece was one of my Clarion West Workshop stories, for one of the days we issued a challenge in the group to write something erotic for a particular week (shout out to Samit for being amazing during “Chaos week”) and this was the result of it.

Fiction

Amelia’s Story

Early Wednesday morning, after a long weekend devoted to the search for her, twelve-year-old Amelia is spotted wandering home on the main highway out of town. She has at that point been missing since the previous Friday.

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