Gradually, he grew accustomed to his alternate form, to the point that he could forget about it for hours at a time.
The collection undertakes—with some success—the difficult job of creating stories that delight while carrying unsettling premises and undertones.
It’s the witching hour, and I am the whittled witch: from lack of sleep, from a long, notched day spent with nothing to show for it save skin that’s been touched raw.
I’ve been here for as long as I can remember, but I never thought it was lonely. The shadows of Tall buildings follow me around all day and give me little reminders.
I finish telling my therapist about the assault. She takes the time to write the last part. The silence is oddly comforting.
I stood up and scanned all the items in the house. Everything looked like she had been living there until just a moment ago. I had to sit down on the chair for a few minutes.
If you’re fortunate enough to have been one of my victims over the past few months, you’ll already be aware that I’ve been occupying my time with an incessant rampage of recommending All My Puny Sorrows by Miriam Toews to anything with eyeballs and a pulse. Every now and then, I’ll read a book so … Continue reading On McSweeney’s Publishing, The Genius of Miriam Toews and Jonathan Plombon, and The Use of Humor as a Gateway into Difficult Subject Matter
I saw an orange cat yesterday, in the field out back. She strolled through the green field with sun shimmering across her fur, with a feline grace that can only belong to satisfaction. Her stride was purposeful, and soon she had walked the length of the field and vanished beyond the horizon. Looking through my … Continue reading A Pet’s Dilemma
Edie Sussman, BFR Staff The small bell above the door rang sharply as Dr. Magellan and an accompanying frozen breeze swept into the waiting room. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was hell this morning.” Her receptionist nodded knowingly. “Have they still not put out that fire out over on the 101?” “Nope. The pyromancy department has … Continue reading Short Fiction: The Pediatrician
To almost all pedestrians, the cobblestone streets were most charming in the lamplight of evening. They were reminiscent of grander cities, or of grander times for the once triumphant city of Sarajevo. But, for Ethan, the darkness could not be illuminated by wane streetlights, and searching for street names and signs of the bus terminal … Continue reading Short Story: Street Signs in Sarajevo