Fiction

It was cold on the day I reaped my first soul. I had known it was coming—had been preparing for it. Although I had...

When she looks out the window from the second-floor apartment she is in, it strikes her that the blueness of the late afternoon sky over Los Angeles does not have the same familiar aquamarine comfort of home. How can the sky be so different here? And yet here it is: there is a cobalt deepness to the blue that makes it feel like a gigantic void closing in, and when she thinks about it deeply, she finds herself shivering a little.

I sit ugly, like a duck waiting to exhale, in a crowded jeepney on the way to somewhere that seems like nowhere on a...

Blood has a peculiar, coppery taste in the mouth. Carmen smells it first, a familiar metallic tang from rusted iron reminiscent of white sartin...