My parents named me Angel. Of course, Landon and Icie Mae Ruggs aren’t really my parents. Even a blind person would know. I am silky and golden, soft and graceful, quick and kind-hearted. I resemble them as much as
Tag: fiction
The electronic chime of the alarm clock sounded from within Eileen’s cranial implant. “Good morning!” Andrew informed her in a bubbly tone. His early-morning enthusiasm never quite gelled with her outlook. But it was to be expected, given his
Fireworks coming like clockwork, small flames of red noise the minute he lay his head down on the pillow. Earplugs were no good. The noise was inside him, incurable. Every day he lost a little more of his silence.
When the paramedics arrived, they took my mother to the trauma center at Parkview Hospital where the attending physician counted 30 puncture wounds. Not twenty-seven or 3.14 or the square root of the hypotenuse of some obtuse triangle. Thirty.
Andy DeLamare tossed a blonde curl over her shoulder and preened at her reflection in the mirror. Grinning, she picked her hat up off the vanity and flipped it into the air before catching it on her head. She
Otto lived alone in one of the tenements that had sprung up shortly after the war, on the outskirts of the city. I would never have visited if he hadn’t phoned me in a panic one day. Would I
When Eric gave me the warm, glass cup of water I was almost in tears. My thighs kept knocking each other and I was sweaty. He sat beside me on the long bed that was opposite the blank television.
It had been five years since I saw the first of them—the shadows that haunt me. It started with seeing them in the corners of my eyes, vague, nonthreatening shapes. As years went by, they encroached further upon my
It was hot and getting hotter in the Hawaiian jungle. In the valley, Rob weeded through a rugged dirt floor, tanned forearms digging into cooled clay, cocooned by silent slopes of green where his banana, and macadamia, and mango,
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