Reprinted in NECKSNAP Magazine Issue 0
November 2024
First Published in Potato Soup Journal
August 2022
On a muggy spring afternoon, the clouds sense a secret is about to be discovered. They crowd low, peering over a verdant bog. The sound of a pickaxe falls in a rhythmic swish-thump. The axeman’s worry rises like perfume.
Another woman was taken yesterday. The clouds hadn’t been in attendance, but they know the axeman’s sister was there, and that she looked away for only a second. All that remained of her friend was the basket spilling red, glistening berries onto the ground.
First published in 3Elements Literary Review
May 1, 2023
Nominated for a Puschart Prize
Poppy pressed her palms to her eyes, trying to squeeze out the final image of the dream (his hands, reaching for her). It repeated a thousand times over as if reflected between two mirrors. Hands, teeth, dark, dark eyes. The same, but different every time.
First published in Grim & Gilded
February 2023
I read a story once, where the main character turned into a cockroach. As my classmates argued about allegories and the unbearable weight of banality, I doodled a bug in my notebook. The story made no sense at all.
In the yellow light of the bathroom’s naked bulb, an overturned cockroach wiggled feeble legs. “I feel ya,” I mumbled through toothpaste foam.
No one ever returned. None before. None after. Just him.
Until now.
A figure exploded from the edge of the forest, scattering twigs and scraps of mist. Donafel let out a sharp breath, a plume of condensation. Ghostly antlers crowned the figure’s head and, for a moment, the familiar terror gripped him. But no—the antlers were merely the crisscross of branches.
Cool air slinks between the blankets, startling goosebumps from my skin. Tarek must have opened the window sometime in the night. I reach across the bed, expecting to feel his warm, bare shoulder. My hand meets cooling sheets.
On the nightstand, my phone buzzes and I jolt. The sound claws away the hush of the apartment.
When I pick it up, it vibrates again. My gut twists: something isn’t right.