she collects pebblesuntil her hands are stiff. her fingerscramp up from inspecting themand her skirt pocket tears awayunder the weight. at home she tucks theminto corners, glues themin place. triesnot to breathe in the fumes. the leather satchel is torn,strips of material peeling awayin placesand she kicks it under the desk. home is familiar,with its …
rain day
watch her:she is therain. watch as shecomes and goesat a whim,flittingthrough the atmosphere. she has themotion of someonewho knows:she's transient. taps at thewindow,light and playfuland clear. Thisis nothingsubstantial. (not even enoughof her presentto appeasethe gods) see her playjabbing the windowwithsuchtiny hands. this timeshe is substantialenough. enough toappease you,the gods,Whomevercrosses her path. now -watch.see her batterthe …
street’s memoir
silent observer,are you tired yet?let me help youtell your story. here, you saw the couple:young.in love. arguing andmaking up. there, a girl trailed throughthe rain - let the bussplash waterat her feet. and here you sawthousands of peoplegoing about life. speak, please - sorry, i forgot.you're silent. leave me myguessing game: i shall make up …
after midnight
at 2 a.m., there's totalstillness.the curtains are drawn,heavy and thick, blocking outall light. in the quiet of the cottagethere's no stimuli.no traffic, no sirens rushing bysetting the night alight withcoloured noise. outside a cicada chirpsthen falls silent. there's nothing. in the bleak dark of nightthere's nothing to see,no need for pretension.no need to do anything.
capitulation
it's nothing personal, she assures me.
the vortex
this happens again and again.
Introducing: Ravens in the Attic, Issue One
I have a fledgling lit mag named Ravens in the Attic.
write one craft one 