“I’d like my own reality show,” she said, and her gossamer wings fluttered, catching the light like fish scales in still water. It was the faerie equivalent of batting eyelashes. Grissom sighed and shoved a pile of papers from the center of his desk to the corner. “I’d like to not have cancer,” he said. […]
“One final question, Cassandra. Why do you deserve to be sacrificed to the great Yog-Sothoth?” The candle on the table flickered as she studied the hooded man’s dark eyes and considered her answer. She hated when the elder gods sent a proxy. How hard was it to show up for themselves? It made her feel […]
I meet Sir Magvelyn at dusk in a north London park to exchange gifts. The damp, frosty air makes my seven-hundred-year-old bones ache, but I hide my discomfort, and reach up to brush grey strands of hair from his wrinkled brow. He greets me with a tender kiss, then we sit on a metal bench […]
She was cursed with a fairness that strangled her. Expectations woven into her dark hair, an openness and roundness to her eyes that filled her with horror. They were too pale, too pure, too winsome to protect her. Terrors poured in while tears poured out. Hate and bile ran through her veins, but when her […]
To save a princess you will need three things: A #2 pencil. A graphing calculator. An ally, preferably fearless. # You will need an ally because princesses are notoriously difficult to rescue alone. Your ally should be a family member, a mother or sister who fed you and tied your shoes when the ambit of […]
The windowless theater makes it impossible to keep track of the days, but I am certain that years have passed since Fyodor’s last visit. I fear that he has died while his magic has not, for here I still stand, a swan maiden poised forever on pointe. Forever cursed. I often wonder how our Swan Lake tableau […]
Maurice showed me his twin brother by lifting up his shirt and pointing to the teeth growing out of his stomach. They were in a half circle: five, firm, small pebbles. The edge of an ear protruded above them like a fish gill. Maurice dropped his sweatshirt back over it. “There’s a bunch of cells […]
His love is alchemy; his touch transmutes. I turn to gold at his faintest glance.
“Do I have a mother?” he asks me. He is precocious. Every father thinks his son is special, but I know. His eyelashes are so fine they are almost transparent. His skin is the color of ripe wheat. He is as beautiful as his mother, but more so, because she was so full of fear. She was a creature of shadows, and my boy is all sunlight.