Winner of the Sonora Review Issue 77 Fiction Contest, selected by Rebecca Makkai
Read More
Alice was the first of us to fade away. The first signs began when winter dawned. Early, before the sun rose, the morning dew solidified into crystals, which crunched like gravel beneath
Rule #1: The venue sets the tone for everything that happens next. The Sugar Factory on Ocean Drive has become the rendezvous spot for these clandestine meetings with Sydney. They chose it
Nobody expected butterflies. Dense flocks appeared along the Atlantic Seaboard that August, radial bands stretching from Cape Canaveral to Mount Desert Island. Eyewitnesses snarled the phones at natural resource departments claiming aerial
Night Six, my mother invites me to help with dinner. From the fridge she pulls tofu and scallops and shrimp without tails. I search the cabinets for almond milk, ask what about
Placenta, you scared me. There you were, bulging and bright, right in front of me under the stare of the cold hospital room. You came shortly after an on-call male doctor in
1. On the rare occasion that Charon went to find Mr. and Mrs. Naaji, he packed his own dented watering-can and walked the long way to the cemetery. He passed Elm Street
Jupiter’s orbit they called it, the path he took nearly every day. He’d start from his little high-stepped house at the farthest end of Duane Street, where the road gets spotty, disappearing
Jameson saw the selkie three times. The first time he was little more than a boy, fifteen and gangly with it, walking along the beach drunk on summer and the rum he’d
He saw a ghost once. Must have been about ten, maybe eleven years old. On nights like tonight, when the ghost was foremost on Brady Scrugg’s mind, he abandoned his apartment for
I. It is the generation of largesse, bangs that yearn to be bouffants like those you see atop your grandmother’s head in old photographs. Your bangs, teased out like a difficult puzzle,