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Rebecca Evanhoe
Continue reading: Rebecca EvanhoeRebecca Evanhoe reads her story, “The Red Hands of the Beet Cook.”
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Grindstone & Fog
Continue reading: Grindstone & FogI could be nude beneath the fog’s fleece. I’m invisible as God, who wraps his modest shawl around Scarborough. The Yorkshire coast is blind. The ships are blind; they can’t see their own masts. Their bones might soon wash up in a spray of spume…
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La Cobija
Continue reading: La CobijaBorn and raised in Mexico, Mara had convinced me to come with her on a road trip through the center of the country on the way to her tia’s house in San Luis Potosi. I had reservations about the trip, but Mara said, “I can get Miguel to go, if you won’t.” I had no…
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Two Stories
Continue reading: Two StoriesWe had mistakenly received a sweater in the mail. It came in a plastic bag. It was red with two oblong holes. It could have belonged to a boy or a girl. I stretched it on the floor and tried to imagine the body that would fit inside. I had difficulty picturing the child’s smile.…
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Onward
Continue reading: OnwardAccording to Daniel this dumb town was built in 1894 with the hopes of “keeping out the riffraff.” But all that means to me is that there are no streetlights and so sometimes I get lost on my way to the library…