Magazine

I never saw him blink – not once. His eyes were not eyes, so much as bottomless holes. He watched as I tossed an empty pill bottle into the trash by my bed.

The fluttering in her stomach started at school when Brian scribbled Will you go out with me? on her textbook. It was Sunday now and the fluttering persisted.

The moonlight was cold on her skin. The door, a massive, ponderous structure of wood, the one she guarded with him, was now shut. Their day’s work was done.

The neighbours talked a lot about the occupant of 606 A wing. For one, she was so beautiful. No, attractive, according to Mrs Munshi of 606 B wing, because ‘she is dark, no?’ Dark but attractive, everyone agreed.

Reverend Langston Penniman sat on the edge of his bed, stretching his black fingers. Everything – except his stomach – had either twisted up on him or shrunk.

I’ve often wondered whether it might not be better to eradicate the nuclear family altogether, to just let us disperse like loose seeds

She hadn’t seen Her today. Not yet. Una hoped She wouldn’t visit anytime soon