“I was originally trying to come back with names for a person that idealizes the romantic past. Many words didn’t quite capture the feeling I was looking for, but The Atavist did — even though most people don’t recognize the word or its meaning. And that’s okay — we’ll help define it!”
“Carnations, Pigeons,” by Bainbridge Island poet Amanda Williamsen, finds a hapless heroine drifting skyward each night, her heaviness draining from her head like sand. Mornings, she wakes startled, fallen, back in bed. She wonders if her problem might be gas.
“There once was a polar bear who roamed the great north accompanied by the clouds, his closest friends.” In two new 100-word stories, California author Heather Bourbeau builds a bridge between myth and time.
On the heels of the American Thanksgiving holiday, Britain’s L.P. Lee delivers a timely — and richly told — fable of power and abuse, and asks uncomfortable questions about abundance, scarcity, appetite and satisfaction. Her work is exquisitely illustrated by UK artist Annie Ridd.
Boise, Idaho, author and reference librarian Grove Koger brings us this heady, moody, mythic bit of verse, to inspire your own musings.
What do you do with an android that malfunctions? The runaway replicants of Blade Runner might suggest one brutal fate, but Olga Zilberbourg’s Fabulist debut “In Our Hearts Risen” imagines a beautiful alternative.