Stories in which female characters are transformed or immobilized.
They stood in the doorway, framed by the heavy veil of night that blanketed the afternoon. The preacher with his pressed black cassock, the circuit judge with his riding clothes still dirt-stained from the road, and the sheriff with his glinting bronze badge were like a trinity delivering Esther to her damnation. Continue Reading
Aurore is dead from the moment she walks into my shop.
Her entrance is accompanied by a soundtrack of clicking heels and an equally entitled whistle, the shrill notes of “Oh, my darling Clementine” ringing proudly in their dissonance. Continue Reading
The air shifted, with a chill brushing away the warm October night. The scent of snow surrounded Kera, crisp and icy. No, not quite snow, but something harder, less forgiving. Stone, maybe. The air felt unnaturally still, like an invisible dome had encircled the pair and was magnifying yet isolating every sound. Continue Reading
I was hauntingly lucky to bear witness as the mermaid of Lake Michigan died. Continue Reading
I pull you into my arms and we tumble into the sand, giggling. I hold on tight and wish I would never have to let you go. Continue Reading
She played him once, when he was alive. How could she refuse? Lucio Gresci’s reputation far exceeded her own, and his request was a summons, no matter how much she dreaded it. His studio was in a large detached house, walled and surrounded by gardens with a few fruit trees. Continue Reading
The humming fluorescence of the artificial sun faded, and with it faded Cyril’s motivation to finish his work. Despite the whirring air circulation systems, a stasis suppressed the room in which he stood, surveying rows and rows of growth pods. Continue Reading
Oh it’s simple to freeze people, I grant you that. It’s not at all complicated to kill a human being by transmuting all their molecules into ice or quartz or marble or whatever. But let’s be honest with ourselves: that’s not art. That’s murder. Continue Reading
I’d braced myself for take-off more tightly than usual; her cursory pre-flight checks, the way she flicked switches and tapped dials unnerved me. The ancient Piper Cub bounced across the grass, revving too hard, its skittishness mirroring her mania to see the wave. Continue Reading
I crane my neck looking over my shoulder, trying to see my back in the bathroom mirror. It’s hard enough normally, but I barely have room, what with the delicate wings sprouting from my shoulder blades. Continue Reading
I grab a thick “Build-a-bod” pamphlet from the coffee table and mindlessly flip through, rereading material that I have been internalizing for the last few months. I mindlessly run my thumb over a before and after picture collage. Continue Reading
It was stunning, an absolute marvel, so much so that if Chrissy wasn’t already cold to the core from the rain she would have felt a chill run down her spine. The statue was uncanny. Too lifelike. Continue Reading
I approach quickly, thinking I’ve left my phone on the mantlepiece. I bump into the couch as I rush forward and at my yelp a whisper comes from the light. Continue Reading
On his deathbed, my father begged me to listen without interruption and whispered a tale I could scarcely believe.
This is the story he told me… Continue Reading
Captain Roone Cong flipped through the contract. A bundle of papers—old school—easier to destroy than electronic files. Roone stopped at a recent picture of a girl-almost-woman with lank black hair. She took after her mother. Still frail and lily-white, like a snowdrop after a late May frost. Continue Reading
Oxygen puffs through the perforation in my throat, piped in by the ventilator. A tube whisks my piss away; IVs and snaking drains proliferate like bacteria. Continue Reading
She delicately dips her toes in the darkening pool before her, and sheds her skin once more. The cool waters rush up to meet her, taking the last of her breath away. Continue Reading
The sun’s finally let go of the old window by the time Ema brings a chalky hand up close, so close, cupping the cheek and pressing dry lips against dryer ones. It doesn’t feel like how she’d imagined it with Angela and her smiling, always-chattering mouth, but Ema can dream and wish and hope. Continue Reading
The silence is absolute, as if time never began here and never will. How can I describe it? As if a wall of glass has been placed by the great hand of a God in the midst of the forest, and no living thing may pass. Continue Reading
Three hours after closing, I emerge from the changing room. Though the store is deserted, I am not alone. The mannequins study my every move, watching me as I stroll among the racks of clothing. I know exactly where I’m going. Continue Reading