short story

Night is for walking and thinking and making the most of the opportunities you are given, and she firmly believes this. She had one set over at The Cellar, and ...

I’m sitting in a cafe in Boston, and my present state of mind is manic. What is your present state of mind? It’s a question typed on a crumpled piece of p...

Some people ask me how I spend my time, I remain silent, but the words I heal sit at the tip of my tongue that is usually always covered with the remnants of Or...

He wasn’t even there. And I was excited to tell him how I worked my way all the way through his cookbook—my Billionaire’s Bacon this close to looking like the p...

Let’s try this again. A. confesses to being inoperative since growing is ongoing and she’s been at it too long a time. Luckily, she wears it well. Her cheeks do...

The creators of the simulation have many interests. Watching their characters do stupid shit is definitely one of ‘em. As far as this goes humans are the ...

Consider these words close enough and you too can be part of the story. My muse. Person on the other side of the screen. You, reader: the shadow casted from the...

The landlord banged the door down, issuing his last ultimatum to Sylvia and Warren Snow. They were supposed to pay at least the previous month’s rent in two day...

Butch Cassidy’s real name is Robert LeRoy Parker, which I only know because we’re in love. We met at a Halloween party in Echo Park. I was a cowgirl, and he a r...

So, your father-in-law just passed away—sorry about that by the way—and now you’ve been told you need to make something for your mother-in-law’s sitting shiva. ...