these trees will soon be skeletons, the pond as hard as glass— Rutherford
Tourette’s Crucible
Tourette’s Crucible “I am sick of meetings; cannot a man turn his head without he have a meeting?” —Putnam, The Crucible. “Yip, yip, bark, shit-fuck-shit.” —Anonymous Tourette’s Sufferer. Act 1…
Space Station 76: An Interview with Jack Plotnick
Despite the fact that character actors tend to be more interesting than the leads, you’re likelier to know their faces than their names. Jack Plotnick has 125 actor credits on…
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The Readings at Blighted Corners
I The Cottage on Arnold Street We learn too late that everything is written on the land, and in houses, too. Under their sharp roofs, they are like elders with…
Now Accepting Remorse
If you’re not all winged-up and fingering a harp in the lap of the Lord by now, then maybe you’re here. Maybe you’re ghosting around the foyer that still reeks…
Brother, I Killed a Fox
Hunter and the others sat at a table outside the cabin when they heard the gunshot—but not the screams that quickly followed it—as he finished dealing the cards and each…
An Ecstasy of Hex Biddies, and Other Tales of Witchering
Our Witch’s Needs We’re worried about our witch. Not her demeanor—sullen, ill-humored, bearish—for it has ever been such. No, it’s the loneliness engulfing her daily. What she can’t help but…
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All the Way to Memphis
We’re traveling through Egypt when the King appears. That is, his falsetto wail comes wafting from the dashboard speakers. It’s “Blue Moon,” Elvis at his finest and most eerie. With…
Some People Never Return
“What’s wrong? Where are you going?” “What?” “You’re pulling off to the side of the road.” “What do you mean?” “You’re pulling off onto the shoulder—there’s no tollbooth here.” “I…
You Can’t Take It With You
Unbeknownst to his wife, Edwin Hersek was involved in a full-blown affair. Her name was Gina and she sat in Edwin’s garage looking lovely as ever. He ran his hand…
Always the Young Alien
I don’t know why, but lecturing the extraterrestrials unnerved me. Oh, they assumed the respectful attitude—tentacles tucked beneath scaly feet—and rarely spoke. But if they objected to the lecture, they…
Where Is Japan, And When?
I am a writer, and so I write. I tell myself this—often—to explain why I persist in my scribbling. For I may fill sheet after sheet with hurried recollections, I…
Poetry
The Archaeologist There was weight in the way she spoke the word.Pot, she said. Pot.It had echo, presence – solidity —the syllable on her steady lip:Pot. Off-white symmetrical labyrinth bands…
Demon’s Orbit
“The idea of Laplace’s demon was that if you had had some kind of intelligence with enough processing jam and enough triv about this moment, it’d be able to see…