Short Story

A Story About Lydia Davis

“Her stories are brief and there’s a trick to them: terror.”

Dec 15, 2017
No Holiday for Psychics

The true crime books made it worse. My mind got to be a blender of murders.

Dec 08, 2017
We Were Two Girls, Playing, Until

“Oh shit,” screams Maya, giving us away. He runs at us.

Do You Think You’ll Come Home?

It was only when I was much older that I realized Sara was tied to my mother’s nightmares.

Nov 17, 2017
Rhinoceros

“There was no one tending the zoo, so we just walked in.”

Nov 09, 2017
What I Can’t Carry, Bury

“No irons, flat irons, waffle irons, curling irons.” I understood: Do not shape anything.

Nov 03, 2017
Insufficient Funds, But Plenty of Tooth and Feather

An ATM refuses to dispense money to a person considering suicide.

Oct 20, 2017
Only You Farang Are So Easy to Come and Leave

No School, No Future, What I Want Cake For?

Oct 13, 2017
Madame X

Your mom took my hand there and then and prayed, ​Lord Jesus, please heal James of his homosexual desires.

Sep 22, 2017
Black Diamond

“I didn’t have to read the papers to know who he was.”

Sep 15, 2017
Necrophiliacs

We knew the things the Yale boys said about us, as if we were zombies. Still, we sold them our drugs.

And on the Seventh Dave, Alexander Found the Deer King

“I haven’t been dating other people,” said Alexander. “Only Daves.”

Aug 04, 2017
The Maid, the Mother, the Snail, and I

Did you know that snail shells and the inner ear follow the same spiral? That is how we know the snails are listening.

Jul 28, 2017
Taco Night

“The thing I wonder about most is how did it happen, the thing that happened on Taco Night.”

Jul 14, 2017
Museum For Women Who Did Not Appear

“There is a difference between a choice and a wish. We were never asked what we wished for.”

Jun 02, 2017
Punishment

“Buy milk. Pay bills. Sever arm. Water fern.”

May 19, 2017
Never Quiet Again

“It’s not that we don’t remember what it was like before the sound. If you asked us, we could tell you.”

May 12, 2017
Olivia

There is no cat in this house. We would know. We live here.

Apr 07, 2017
From the Abuse Survivor’s Workbook

“I do not tell him that sometimes when he touches my breasts I feel very sad.”

Mar 10, 2017
The Agoraphobe’s House

She drank a bottle of poison. It must have been household cleaner. His poem doesn’t specify.

Feb 24, 2017