Dragonfly by Alpheus Williams

Mother has latticed wings, translucent tinted amber, sectioned like leaded glass in church windows.  Her flight is poetry, lyrical, beautiful, full of grace, deadly.  She kills on the wing, takes prey in taloned limbs, rips off wings and devours it headfirst.  Harnesses the wind, owns the air.  The physics of her flight is art and science.  She hovers, darts and …

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Foetal Distraction by Monica Carter

Entering through the heavy green, odd-shaped door, Dr Charles Dennis shivers. An inclement night: wind tears through the old house, the hospital, where desperate souls bury immorality, illness, fear of the immortal, or they bury themselves.  Tonight, something other than death, sickness, and despair saturate the place; something else seems to have permeated the thick …

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Hidden Wings by Ali McGrane

An empty suit lies discarded on a bench, legs spread, arms hanging loose. You lift a limp sleeve and let it drop. The cheap shine reminds you of the suit you bought for her funeral. Don’t spend good money on misery, she said. But there was a kind of guilt in that. You ease yourself …

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For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow by Liz Churchill

John is woken by the cat on his chest, doing that weird stepping, kneading, clawing trance cats do when they’re tremendously content. Pinning John in place, dribbling reverently. Purring mysterious feline pleasure all over his torso. Settling its tapered body like a lion in Trafalgar Square, tucking its paws under all neat, pushing its nose …

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Never Gone by Lyndsey Croal

I can’t bear the creak that comes from my chair at night. Steadily rocking, back and forth, back and forth. Ghosts have no respect, honestly. This particular one is called Gertrude. She’s been rocking in my office chair for the past three weeks and it’s probably time I do something about it. Occasionally, just as …

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The Truth Behind Hailey’s Arachnophobia by Anika Carpenter

FUCKINGIn high school, Hailey told the few friends she had that she’d walked in on her parents doing it. She said that when she saw their limbs in the half-light, all bunched together moving in ways they shouldn’t, she vomited. ‘They looked horrific,’ she said, ‘like a giant spider feasting on something   ̶ a …

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Yes, Huntington by Jared Povanda

Yes, Huntington. Dark glasses. Pinot Noir. Proficient in Latin, French, and German. Huntington is Protestant. Huntington dated men and women in college, but he’s married to a woman now and they have two children. He’s still bisexual, so please leave your heteronormative notions at the door with your shoes, thank you. Huntington jogs. Huntington enjoys …

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