Bog Iron by Shane Larkin
We make stops on the way to our bog plot to look at the little skeletons. Dad tells me about them. Curlews and skylarks in dancing poses. Tiny skulls.
Magic Fingers by Elizabeth Fletcher
By the fourth motel, I knew to hold my breath for the exhale of mildew when mom unlocked the door. In the shadows of the blackout curtains, we spied the coin box between the two doubles.
The Storyteller of Aleppo by Donna Obeid
In the barren cold camp, you wear a dusty cape and top hat, wave my cane as if it were a wand and tell me your dream-stories, one after the next, your words spun and tossed like tethers into the air.
Itinerary by Richard Holinger
Bears would come eat haybales stacked to the ceiling, one on top of the other. Barn had no doors.
Stranger in the Bright Light by Jennifer Lai
I heard about the abductions from Lisa. First, it was a Doberman. Next, a Ball Python. Then, just yesterday, someone’s Maine Coon. Why they were out in Gladstone Field in the first place is anyone’s guess.