She extended one arm towards me, then another. I allowed her ten limbs to encircle me, snake around my ribs, under my arms, between my clothed thighs. I got one glimpse of her pink, rubbery face before her hooked beak caught me. It clamped my mouth so hard I tasted
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Winner of the Sonora Review Issue 77 Fiction Contest, selected by Rebecca Makkai
According to Jan Krufka of Hard Facts Magazine, my studio apartment was
When I think of what I want your name to be, I
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,
Learn of Her Your father’s mother tells you the story of the being who lives in the bottom of the river. “It’s a river witch,” Grandmother says, “one who guards and protects
Walter brought her to the Sackler Wing the week it opened, the Temple arranged across sparkling, still water. “Remember the mummies?” he said, taking her hand under the slanted wall of glass, the
The skin on my thumb is worn and beginning to blister. It has been pressed hard against the metal edge of the hose since noon, desperate to make water come out faster,
My dear, I think you’ll make a fine Attic Ghost. You seem destined for the slow creak of floorboards in a sleeping house. Just imagine: your silhouette framed in the window of
On the beach just by the power plant, Brett told us about the Prick Garden: “There’s a rabbi,” he said, “just back in the woods. He buries foreskins in his yard. Bris.”
Winner of the Sonora Review Issue 77 Fiction Contest, selected by Rebecca Makkai
According to Jan Krufka of Hard Facts Magazine, my studio apartment was a musty, dank lair. He told his readers about the tissues I had tucked into the crevices of my corduroy
