You’re allergic to almonds. You’re sensitive to a lot of things. Soy, kiwi, cashews, pistachios, endless cosmetic products, cleaning fluids, certain materials, cats, grass and dust. But you’re only allergic to almonds. They make you sick. I keep a bar of marzipan in my drawer at work. Wash my hands and brush my teeth after …
My parents bought the house cheap, thinking they’d got a bargain, then found out years later it was built over a disused mine, there had been a disaster there, people drowned, which nobody ever spoke of because it had long dissipated from living memory. All my life I expected the ground to fall beneath me …
We Keep Ourselves to Ourselves by Rhiannon Jones Read More »
I’m the only parent sitting with a kid who isn’t hers. It takes some work to coax a smile out of Avery, but once I do, we’re giggling and bouncing on the lumpy school bus seat. Avery is bony knees and elbows skinny. A mouth of teeth at war with each other. I picture him …
She haunts my half-wakened thoughts. I heard her, sitting in my recliner watching strangers cook foods I’ll never eat in places I’ll never go, while the grease-soaked scent of dinner from a paper sack lingered on. I heard her and my heart froze and shattered. I heard her and craned my neck to look out …
The Girl Who Screamed in the Night by Alyssa Bushell Read More »
I want to take my baby to the park, but she wouldn’t be safe, not with real children around. Not like I get the chance anyway, on the night shift. Don’t get me wrong, I’m working towards days. But even after five years, I’m at the bottom of the totem pole. If it weren’t for …
Rosalie, you were not meant for the Darkness by Cole Beauchamp Read More »
My mother walked on soles that sprung daisies. Breathed, and lotus petals unfurled. Her hair shone like sunlight on deep water and moved with a koi-tale flick, catching desire and darkness in its furl. She delivered me onto a bed of waxy palm, beneath a bloody moon, without want or need of company and only …
I was so proud the day my son was born, that I locked him in the basement to begin his training. No windows or phones, only a TV and Nintendo. He whined a lot during infancy so I’d sing to him, Pokémon theme songs throughout the years. Oh — and the rap too! I memorized …
So, when Diane says, they’ll pay their respects but leave after the mini sandwiches, Dave doesn’t disagree. Their drive to the crematorium is going well, but Dave is tapping his knee, and maybe it’s because they both need café lattes, it’s getting to Diane. Then Dave says, he isn’t looking forward to the boring eulogy …
Remember the night at the Bottoms Up in New Orleans and you dared me to dance on the bar. How I threw that white sweatshirt with Eat Me on the floor, my black lace bra for show. Remember no windows in the place, lava lamps and creepy balls of yellow wax growing inside the glass. …
What if we went outside and the sleek dark night stroked your face and choked your screams and you stopped flailing. What if you thrust your chubby little hand at the sky and I said, ‘Moon.’ What if we went outside and the sleek dark night stroked my face and choked my screams and I …
A prefect arrives and starts giving Susan even more instructions. It’s difficult to concentrate – there’s been so much to take in already today. And then there’s the beastly pants thing. She forces herself to listen as the girl explains about 7 am cleaning duties, table setting rotas, brass polishing. The list of chores seems …
Prospective partners, Brylcreemed hair as set in place as their plans, prowl the dancefloor perimeter. A hammock of cigarette smoke hovers over their heads. Our mothers have warned us about these boys. We can dance – of course we can dance – but you and I must come home together, always. Remember we’re good girls. …