The Cripple’s Last Dance

Flash Fiction
By: | April 30, 2013

Dance, like any other art, is a form of worship, you see. One false move can break that fragile link between you and your god. I lost my legs. More

Siege

Flash Fiction
By: | April 23, 2013

The girls come from nowhere. Two of them, running behind their mother, who seems to be urging them on with her voice, yet holding them back with her arms;… More

A Sailor

Fiction
By: | April 16, 2013

She tells her husband this story. He asks her what she wants him to say. She tells him to say that he is angry that she fucked a Turkish… More

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