Slowing Down

They’re waking up when I come into town. Shopkeepers, housewives. A few beggars. This town doesn’t have very many—I remember that from the last time I came through. I’m not sure they like that sort. I probably look like a beggar to most of them. My shoes are getting thin around the soles, and my … Continue reading Slowing Down


They left her to the marshes. That’s the rumor, anyway. The women in the kitchens whisper about it when they mop the floors, and the men tell the stories in the stable. I’ve heard it both places. It’s always the same. She spurned a lord, and the marshes took her soul. I’ve spurned my own … Continue reading Marshes


Rose hips grow by the wooden gate, red fruit already wrinkling in the late-summer sun. I pause with my hand on the latch, gathering a few and storing them away in my apron pockets before I go inside. They smell of hot wind and dust, but brewed into a syrup, they’ll cure cough and treat … Continue reading Herb-Woman

Where Peace Abounds

He throws me out after the fifth beer. My mother will follow me in an hour or so. She offends him less, I think, because she doesn’t answer back when he swears at her. She’s everything I’m not and wish I could have been. Soft and gentle, kinder than one of God’s angels, with mouse-brown … Continue reading Where Peace Abounds

How I Will Probably Die

I find the bookshop on 47th and Willow, sandwiched between a pawn shop with a broken lamp in the window and a jewelry store selling fake pearls. The windows are shuttered, and a black cat is lying on the doorstep. She arches against my hand when I reach down and pet her, and when I … Continue reading How I Will Probably Die

Glass Butterflies

They live in the greenhouse at the base of the cliffs. The blackened crags rise above it, glistening and wet with the spray of the sea, and the cry of the gulls fills the air. The greenhouse is abandoned, has been for as long as I can remember. No one goes there. Not anymore. No … Continue reading Glass Butterflies

Our Father

Our Father, who art in heaven… I hear the door of the nave creak as he comes in. The sanctuary is dark, only the candles around the altar still burning. I stand beside them, my eyes on the cross above the altar, and hold my breath as he comes down the aisle. I can already … Continue reading Our Father

Peanut Butter and Jelly

She always made me a PBJ as soon as we got to work. Eat it slow, she’d tell me, that’s all you get until lunch. Then she’d sit me on a stool in the corner of the kitchen, and I’d watch her cook. No one else came to the kitchen as early as she did. … Continue reading Peanut Butter and Jelly

Empty House

The house is haunted. All of the kids say so. When we pass it after school they throw rocks at the windows and sticks in the yard, but no one ever dares go past the gate and down the gravel drive. The porch is sloped, nearly collapsing under its own weight, and the garden’s long … Continue reading Empty House

Pumpkin Patch

We harvest the pumpkins by candlelight when the moon hangs full over the black trees and the wind is cold. The goblins steal them otherwise. The stories say they see where we take them if we harvest during the day, and any other night they’d be in the fields themselves, stealing them anyway. So we … Continue reading Pumpkin Patch