Illustrations by Grace McKenna The Cemetery was situated at the bottom of a pillar of rock at the edge of the woods, past the long grass, past the ticks, and past the rabbits in their cages in the lane.  The Bees were abundant in the spring, and by the age of ten, I had been stung three times– once on the chin, once on the thigh and once on the grass whilst playing barefoot. My sister remained untouched. She liked to consider herself in alliance with the Bees– her, a small th

Note: the form of this piece was inspired by Susan Sontag’s short story The Way We Live Now. Sontag’s text is available to read online at...

Content Warning: Racist language It was Tuesday on a sluggish June afternoon in 1956, and Samuel Cohn sat and smoked a cigarette, waiting...

It is my four hundred and fortieth year upon this Earth, and I can no longer recognize my own face. I know it in essence, have seen the...

The vans travelled alone, materializing in back alleys and underneath streetlamps, when the funeral shroud of night had been drawn over...

Jamie looked like neither a girl nor a boy. They had ear-length brown hair, high cheekbones, and thin skin that wrapped their rocky jaw...