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
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
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.
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