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Tag Archives: Prose
While Some Throw Rocks at the Object of Their Fear
At her touch the raspy scales constricted and coiled, tensed into an anxious lowercase e.
The Heart Makes a Poor Compass
Somewhere in the dusk a bird begins its goodnight song, the tune more mournful now, more wistful now. What does he know?
Please Don’t Sign the Guestbook
The Airbnb was quaint and quirky and we blew in with the wind, strewing makeup bags and wine coolers across the place like our signature: four best friends, there to whoop it up.
In Which Cake Becomes a Metaphor
A cake where the beauty is in the cake itself, exposed and unabashed, adorned by only the most carefully chosen elements that add to, rather than superseding, its flavour and appeal.
Angelina Suarez Has a Stalker
Angelina’s not worried about the letters anymore. She’s floating in the swimming pool leaking crimson ribbons that swirl like steeping tea.
8 Steps to Miss the Sunrise
Open the door, for Pete’s sake, because this is real life and it’s the pizza delivery you ordered, not your Prince Charming.
The Molted Skin of Childhood
He had gone away years before. Away, as in not there, not where Miranda was, not around when she needed him—or someone, anyone—to be in her corner.
Still I Stood
Squeaks and screeches and haunting calls of “who-hoo-oooo” spoke amongst themselves in the language of the night, exclusive food chain negotiations I had no desire to be party to.
It Comes With a Pickle
He gets so sick of those people with their happy lives and their normal jobs on solid ground. He gets so angry when he’s seen by no one, moving state to state leaving no trace, Mr. Inconsequential mattering to nobody nowhere.
Aly Writes 