The basement is brightly lit, long fluorescent lighting driving out any shadows in the anthropological centre she calls her tomb. The aisles are long, the carefully laid out shelves crowded with neatly labeled white boxes. She wonders if the boxes contain other ghosts, but she has never seen anyone else lingering here like she does….
Harriet was going slowly along the road, avoiding putting her feet on any cracks in the pavement, when she heard the man screaming. It was a long, loud scream – the kind of scream you might call blood-curdling – and she stumbled to a halt. Setting her foot down just before a crack she looked…
I’m pulled from my numbness by a screaming tea kettle. Downstairs, pots are banging, cabinet doors slamming, dishes clattering against each other. Purposeful noise consciously made, lifting me from the silence I was drowning in. I breathe a sigh of relief. I sit up in bed and listen, unsure of how long I’ve been awake,…
“They say you are the one who can attend to my needs.” A cloaked figure waits at my doorstep. Behind her, twilight drags its dark, feathered wing across the horizon. A fortnight ago, the sun might have lingered. But the seasons are turning; soon, there will be frost. For now, we endure only bitter winds,…
They have amazing toys and gadgets here. Portals and matter creators and holographic projections. They especially love playing with time: rewinding, changing perspective, throwing variables in to create new iterations of dead scenarios. They have every fancy gizmo and innovation from the start to end of time at their disposal and they don’t mind me…
We were assigned the same rehabilitation counselor, her appointments always during the twenty minutes before mine. We’d pass in the hallway. Me, leaning against the metal curve of the wall, a paper fortune teller hiding my fingers as I slowly brought the wrinkled paper in and out, back and forth, gaze skimming the faded pencil…
The Accuser would be here soon. Agatha’s powers didn’t answer her call. Lying in the dim light of her bedroom, listening to the soft weeping of one of her descendants, glimmers of light filtered through her consciousness, memories hazy in the sunlight falling on her bed from the window.In her mind, she looked down on…
There’s this thing about rocks. They sit. That’s it. In desserts beneath glaring suns they watch the world around them bake and boil. In the crashing waves and hidden riptides of oceans and seas they stay stubbornly, steadfastly, still. In forests, prairies, bogs, and fields they wait as one becomes the next or another. At…
The beginning is the end. Many species over the history of the universe have forged theories of the beginning and the end of the light. Because that’s what’s interesting about the universe. The light. The darkness is everywhere, the darkness is through, the darkness is surrounding. The light is what is special. Light means life….
Perdita was at the Third Street bus stop when she realized she was invisible. The bus had come lumbering and puffing to the curb, and she’d started to climb on when a man shoved past her, driving an elbow into her back. He didn’t turn, didn’t apologize, just scrambled for standing room by the window….
