He married her despite the spiritualism. He grew to accept it, and her like-minded friends. He drove her to the Spiritualist Church three times a week and came to know the patrons well, and respect them. She hailed from Romany stock, and they were nice, too—didn’t resent him for stealing her away from the travelling life, her and the ‘gift’ she was convinced she had. He never believed in it himself, but didn’t doubt her honesty.[Read more…] about How It Works
By Karen Stoff
The clouds came darker, thicker than the towering thunderstorms with their twisters so common along the prairie lands. Great Aunt Willamet said they reminded her of the locust swarms when she was a child, which swooped down upon the homesteaders in the 1870s. I’d have taken that over the damned dust, something to fight against and kill instead of cursing the very dirt needed to grow my crops.[Read more…] about Dust Lore
Marco’s cousin told him real Spanish roses bloomed out of the bullfighting rings. That was nearly a fortnight ago, after the siege of Madrid, when Raul convinced Marco to flee their coastal village. The two cousins spoke over the glow of lit matches in the dark alley behind abuelo’s kite shop.[Read more…] about Spanish Rose
I always make sure I am standing behind the counter when the captain comes for his bread— my hair tied into a bun, hands clasped behind my back as if I have nothing else to do. I like to make a good impression for him and, it is true, his twice-weekly order is the largest we supply to anyone in the town. The garrison must be fed.[Read more…] about Loaves
By James Tatam
He is crawling, then running. Cedarwood creaks under his feet, and below, ocean waves crash together like wild beasts, raging in their rut. The wooden arm of the pier, outstretched into the moonlight, continues for a lifetime.
He must keep running; in front, they are getting older with every stumble.[Read more…] about The Pier