Published in Apple In The Dark, Summer 2024

The early morning view from the back door has always been Fran’s favorite thing about the house. Down the stone path through the garden, past the greenhouse with its empty pots and dry soil, and up the hill to the small copse of trees. It will be what she misses most.

Winner of the Writer’s Atelier Flash Fiction Prize.

“How did you hear?” Nancy hands me a platter of cauliflower smothered in cheese sauce.

“The wireless,” I say, spooning generous fists of the vegetable onto my plate. Denise had joked that we had nothing on but the radio. Her firm breasts highlighted in the pale triangles of her bikini tan.

Published in Cagibi Literary Journal.

Her muscles jolted and twitched, then rested, and for a splinter of time, beneath the roiling surface—in a place where the waves, the gulls, and the wind were muted, and the water exerted a loving pressure around her body—Mary drifted in peaceful suspension.

Published in Permafrost Magazine, winter issue, 2019 Vol. 41.1.

The winter sky is so blue, it vibrates. She blinks. The awareness of a low hum builds in her head and as she tunes into it, she begins to feel her body. She’s on her back. She’s on the ground. It is hard and she is cold. 

Narrative Magazine Story of the Week.

Her fierce attraction to B. made Hannah feel exposed, like the transparent moon jellyfish she had seen while diving in Thailand, drifting through the ocean with their pale reproductive organs on display.