The house on the top of the hill awakens. The large central window (its mouth) opens and its tongue unfurls (it’s actually the old lady...

Can you smell that? It smells like wet metal, rusty metal and something else. Blood and piss? So, he may have been here. Maybe, still is...

If you loved Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt, then prepare yourself for Shuggie Bain by Douglas Stuart. Douglas Stuart’s mastery of...

Back then, during the cold winter evenings, the five women would gather in Ida’s barn to keep warm. They looked forward to this time of...

She was very attractive, but her nails were bitten to the quick. This meant that her hands were usually balled into fists on her lap or...

The day we met, a major storm was brewing. The city was a flurry with bits of paper and garbage whipping about in a crazy dance of leaps,...

I was hit squarely with the strong distinctive odor of cabbage and fried schnitzel while descending the stairs from my friend’s fourth...

Despondency had an address. Ours. Our house was one of a series of identical houses on the fringes of this forest. The ever present...

Her house is a fine example of symmetry. It is the type of house you first draw as a child. The feeling on the untree-lined street of row...

We were completely surrounded. Bodies pressing into us, hands prying and violating; a crush of human flesh and bones. The ATM’s had been...