The Elephant in the Room by Frankie McMillan
My husband is a choker. Every now and again, he’ll cough then suddenly rise, the dinner plate flung to the floor. Food thrown everywhere.
End of Days as the Dairy Queen by Morgana MacLeod
Momma wears her memories like a ratty robe, worn patches rubbed shiny on the seat, diverse stains obscuring the lapels.
Peg by Aimee Parkison
In your favorite foreign movie, the husband wakes at night and sees the elderly neighbor woman in the bedroom, staring at his wife, the young sleepwalker, S, tied to the bed for her own protection.
Marionette by Nod Ghosh
You pull her up on two-strings, one-string, ten strings. You make her dance her necessary steps, and then you stand her still.
The Blood Artist by Jefferson Navicky
Like a meteor on Mars, red dust kicks up from the bricks. The men in white suits with gas masks and their little buzz saws are tethered to the scaffolding by what looks like a large scrunchie.