Somehow she’d never imagined it to be this easy; there had not been any moments of hesitation, of wondering whether she shouldn’t turn around and…
The glass thickens. I’m a weird thing now. I’m a creature of the deep, the down-deep, the unfound black-brown down-deep. I have my lights, my…
On the Monday, we ask people about him, what they remember. Most of them have something to say. ‘Was it something to do with his…
He throws his cup in an arc of milk, a constellation across your just-mopped floor. Your breath comes in through your nose and you sense…
Used to be madness was considered a stone, you say, studying that Hieronymus Bosch painting at the Prado. When we reach the hotel again, you…
The Splonk team is delighted to announce its Best of the Net nominations for this year. Our noms will be considered for the Sundress Publications…
Father said it was Mother’s job. Mother went to get. We waited undertable. Mother came with tools, and Father stood as Mother worked. We could…
The lake was calmest at night. The days’ riotous winds slowed to soft breaths that quivered through the weeping willows along the shore, and the…
You are supine on our bed, your eyes closed. Outside our bedroom window the moon cuts sharp shadows as if it is not night at…
Funeral Hill’s fingers tap her spine like a ghost at the window. She shivers. No one touches her now but the maid and the baby,…