Stories

I smash mirrors everywhere. In my wake, shards of reflected sunlight litter ruined streets. Until they are splattered with red. Mothers hide their baby boys ...

[Author's note: The following pieces are excerpted from Palace of Rubble, a collection of one-page stories composed primarily from single words culled each day from ...

My world is darkness.  No. It’s dark beneath the water, but it’s unjust to say there is only darkness. There is also cold, and the ...

It wasn't a frequent habit, but James started this day by sneaking a splash or two of vodka — as colorless as cyanide — into ...

The fighting lasted for years, perhaps decades.  Buildings were reduced to gravel, bullet by bullet. Neighbors were starved or raped or humiliated. Children played peacekeeper ...

That first half year in the parish of Santo Sebástian, Father Ambrose was afraid.  He feared the vast New Mexican spaces beyond the church door; ...