BRET EASTON ELLIS’ QUEEN The mirror loomed before her, decorated with gold leaf framing, inlaid with jade and ivory. It cost a small fortune and necessitated bribes to customs officials…
I don’t feel well. That’s not strictly true, but it is what I say. Nobody asks me – in what way are you unwell? They just think, old lady’s ills,…
I think it began in kindergarten. Mason Hinks threw rocks at a baby turtle that had fumbled onto the playground. I saw him chasing it and hurling the rocks, just…
The bat in the garage was hanging from Jason’s bike rack, its body longer and thicker than Margaret’s dusty motorcycle, which, under its tarp, had fooled her some nights into…
One night, the first witch scrambled up the layout of B—. Northside, like a gigantic amoeba, ingested Southside’s parts. Glenbriar, de-gated, moved downtown. Winding Way veered into the lake. For…
Half its roots needling water, half that fan fingering air, the willow canted ’cross the stream, lending ear to its thieving blab and glass. Flowering, I rushed along its fallen…
Dearest Thuy, They found a skeleton this morning. I don’t really want to talk about it. Then again, I don’t really want to talk about him either. But I’m going…
The hollows in old bestiaries house living lion’s teeth that resemble a band of knotted women. During the time that rabbits with dogs’ heads chattered malevolent spells in fields not…
Her face is above mine. Ripples murmur over her features—black brows in slim lines. A too-large nose. Perfectly formed lips in plumped half-wedges. Rounded cheeks, pale. A tumble of raven-hued…
Though cramped, the confines of the backseat exist miles away from anything. The only light comes from the green of the dash and the driver’s lit cigarette, embers glowing crimson.…
Gingerbread House Lit Mag 