Hinterland Is Real
They say seeing is believing. I didn’t know what that meant until that night. I was coming home late, later than I should, and I knew I was going to catch heck. Momma didn’t even pretend to be patient when me or my sister wasn’t
They say seeing is believing. I didn’t know what that meant until that night. I was coming home late, later than I should, and I knew I was going to catch heck. Momma didn’t even pretend to be patient when me or my sister wasn’t
The mist crept closer, slithering across the boot prints she left behind on the soft, moist ground. She urged her legs to go faster over the uneven path. A leafless tree grabbed at the flying strands of her long silver hair as she ran past.
The path of a ghost is etched into the earth, hammered and chiseled by heeled boots, flat leather soles, and the barest of feet. I follow the prints up and over the rise. There is a man standing by the car, smartly dressed in black
In the beginning of the world, there was a bird, small and ugly, waddling on the ground, unaware it had wings. It sang to the blue skies, voice soaring and dipping, longing and magic-infused in every note. This went on for days and then weeks
The rain stopped battering against the phone booth the second he hung up, as if a giant spigot turned off. It was sudden and silent and not at all what he expected from a crossroads deal. No devil drove up in a shiny Cadillac. No
They say Happiness lives in that house. Normally I don't believe nothing anyone tells me, but after walking by that door every day and staring at the sunshine color, I decide to grab an ounce of nerve and knock. I wait and sweat and fidget
He’d never been a man of vision. He hadn’t been much of anything until the day lightning struck him. The smell of singed wires had stayed with him for months, long after he discovered the unnatural side effects of a billion volts of energy blasting
Ms. Royal had spent her entire life in this doorway—from the carpenter’s shop to the painter, onto the installer's truck, and then, here, next to Mr. Turquoise. Turq, he insisted she call him. She thought nicknames a little too common, vulgar even, so she called
She passes through the labyrinth of brick walls and bright markings. She speaks to no one, for she is alone with her mission. A black feather drifts across her path, carried by the breeze from vents blowing greasy smells. At the labyrinth’s heart is a
There’s a magic in them alleys. Where the moon fills with blood, and the margins of the city seep through cracks in the cement, opening the way for other things. How do I know? I’ve seen things; felt the whoosh of air from beating wings
In his dreams, he revved and roared and smoked his tires on hot asphalt, jumping off the start line. He boomed through gritty, naked streets toward the finish line and white handkerchiefs waving from delicate hands. He dreamed because he could
The three sisters had grown tall and bored…of the streets and the ball of fire above them that burned the ends of their fine strands. They often complained to each other about the winds and blowing dust, for they had become quite vain after seeing
They looked out the window, twenty-two stories down to the empty streets. Big Foot poured a double shot of whiskey in two glasses. He took one for himself and handed the other glass to his good friend and fellow conspirator, Snuffleupagus, who, even though he
Two sisters sat in their mother’s living room as the rain rat-tatted on the tin roof. The one with brown eyes scrolled endlessly through the app on her phone, looking at the fake she thought was real. The one with amber eyes stared out the window
Here we are already rolling into the month of Love. February seemed to just show up out of the blue. Kind of like that unexpected old friend who showed up at your door with a suitcase in hand and said, "I'm here!" So Happy Valentine's Day! I
The town officials have condemned and scheduled the building behind me for demolition. Authorities say that a group of rebels have been using the building for a lab for at least seventeen months. Apparently, the tenants had been manufacturing joy and giving it away for
She hadn’t meant for the bridge to fall away under the hooves of the hero’s horse, or for the peasant girl to turn into a pumpkin instead of her chariot. I’m not an engineer, she’d said in her own defense. I’m a fairy. Sure, she
It had been twenty-three years since Charlie last saw the old homestead. His mother had signed it all over to him years ago. It was a place he didn’t intend to see ever again. Let it rot, he said with finality. But yesterday the cops
“It strikes me as funny that no one thought I had the situation under control,” the Princess said. “It’s not like I didn’t have an outstanding track record of saving people, blowing up the bad guys, and generally being badass before the so-called kidnapping. Ha.
It happened at night, the separation. The wet snap and the gradual split and Lester’s body became thoughts and wind as he drifted out the window of the man’s loft. Lester woke miles away, alone and dark and long in the rising light of the
I tell myself that… they won’t know I didn’t find the character that pulled the entire story together until the end, because of course there had to be a Franciscan nun showing up at his door wait…not a nun, a black dragon that blows confetti out
That old TV never did work, but that didn’t stop grandad from sitting out by the garage to stare at the thing for hours. It was my job to keep his glass of lemonade filled up while he was out there. He would hush me
In the beginning of the world, there was a bird, small and ugly, waddling on the ground, unaware it had wings. It sang to the blue skies, voice soaring and dipping, longing and magic infused within every note. This went on for days and then
A shopping cart saved my life. Don’t look at me that way…I’m old, but I still got all my marbles. I’ve had this cart since 1978, when I had my first baby. We didn’t have the fancy strollers then and even if we did, I
He was gone long enough that the sting should’ve eased. But it hadn’t. She saw him everywhere like he’d touched everything and branded it his before leaving. It started a few weeks back, her moving out pieces of furniture from the house. Carrying lamps
You don’t need to believe in urban legends or myths, to make them true. Take the multiple UFO sightings in New Mexico. You’ve heard about them, maybe even seen them for yourself—the glowing disks or triangles of light. Speculations of alien spies have been around for
Some say the Guardians of Time created this door to drive men insane. But that’s a bunch of malarkey. This is a rumor spread by those who obsess about the past or the future, who want to alter an outcome in either way. They search
You might think it strange, me sitting here, waiting for the sun to set, to watch the stars pop out one by one after I’ve just done what I’ve done. From up here, I see the house burn, flames like long tongues licking the sky. If
You wouldn’t know it, but this is her home, in the penthouse suite forever rented. Not her ghost, but the blond movie star in the flesh. Rumor and time had spun a fine yarn of depression and addiction into her narrative. How convenient, she thought.
I sucked out the last of the slush from the bottom of my Freezie as I faced the genie. I couldn’t find his lamp, so I rubbed the gritty block wall just over his eyes—rubbing until my hands turned raw. I didn’t trust him, not
me: Did you feed him? him: I didn’t. You told me never to do that, so I didn’t. me: How did he get here? him: I don’t know. Maybe he followed me home last night. me: He’s old and rusty and his hind end sags. He needs a doctor.
“You’ve had a most unusual experience, would you tell us about it?” asks the talk show host. “I heard about the Pearly Gates all my life. I had certain expectations, perhaps like most of you,” I look out at the studio audience, not for dramatic effect
I was parked on the 3rd level but I kept climbing, breathing my way to the 5th. The door was a grimier version of what I remember. You’re parking spot is taken by a Range Rover. Black. Spotless. Somehow, I think you’d hate that it wasn’t
I’m writing your name on a bar napkin, the edges sopping from beer glass sweat. I missed work three days in a row––keep calling in sick but I’m not sure what’s wrong. Maybe gravity just stopped holding me down. This morning I passed the coffee shop,
Mrs. Marcy, the neighbor from upstairs, said she saw you the other night, shivering behind the Greyhound Bus Station. I went to look for myself. There was an old man warming his hands over a burning garbage can. I asked if he’d seen a brown
There were wildflowers, yellow and purple, growing wild in the fields. The kind of flowers you would make me pull over for. To take a picture of. Or maybe to pick a few. Two stops back I thought I saw you in a blue rusted pickup,
I think I came here once before. There was two or maybe five of us following lipstick clues written on recipe cards. I’d found one duck taped to the bottom of the bench, the lipstick smeared and ripped off along with the tape. We laughed, tossed
Just think, you can pull it behind. Oh, you don't have a vehicle. You have a bike. A motor bike? Oh. BMX. OK. Well, it does have a sturdy shell and the blinds mostly work. There's even room for entertaining. You don't entertain? Well then
They left it there. As if it hadn't held all they owned––the scrounged up, the stolen and the bartered. There was a time when it was full, heaped with what they thought of as survival gear. The first day out, on the road outside the