The first time he saw her she was trying to push into buy a ticket for the state film on opening night. He had taken the day off work and had his tickets early. Now he was sitting along the low wall across the street, watching the throng. She had ridden up in a rush, stopping short of the line. Everything about her was short: her hair tucked behind her ears. You could see her neck where a mole was...

The potatoes were still too raw to cut the day he found out she survived the famine. Six years without any word. A letter each week with no answer. When he had business north of her town, he would sneak off the train and avoid the check point guards by climbing over the storage depot’s fence, his coat thrown over the concertina wire.

Her family apartment had seemed so much smaller empty of ...

The handwriting is scrawled and over large. “Minnerva’s Private Thoughts — No Trespassers. That Includes You, Uninvited Reader. Beware of Dogs.” The next page is stuck to the first with something that leaves your fingers sticky. The corner is stubborn and rips. A photo of your house but many years ago. A woman sits in a chair on the lawn, looking away from the camera. You realise her chair is act...

“Your crown is made of the people’s bones and hunger. Your cloak dyed red with their blood. Your robe is nourished by their tears. Your scepter bears the names of the people you serve.”

Ameru, Priestess of the Jagged Cliff, pressed the tip of her dagger into my throat. “If there is any fear or doubt in you, if your heart does not wear this mantle in openness and love, it would be better f...

When your daughter is missing three years, you think about burying an empty coffin. You need a place to visit that can continue holding the emptiness for you. You wonder if this makes you a bad mother. How you think about walking into her bedroom, still hers, and burning the old unmade black sheets which then catch the comforter long left on the floor. You are transfixed by the image of the curtai...

Sometimes we drive around looking at all the empty houses. We go around cloaked in night and the silence of a parking lot. In the Fiesta’s front seat with our windows open, we were happy, and I could touch it. Some nights we walk to the gas station and watch the traffic congest around the highway on-ramp. Every driver has some wild story, we are sure, even a tame wild is more than we know. We were...

“So basically, I have five minutes to convince you not to murder me, right?”

The psycho blinks and that’s all. Okay. I can push on. I’m a positive thinker. Growth mindset. “Well, here’s the thing: how well is psychopathy working for you right now?”

“It’ll be working better for me in four-ish minutes.”

“Ah ha! That’s what you think. It’s what we all think about our labour — I’m...