In this erstwhile church, now a woman’s home, framed images transcend the ancient myth that gave birth to this scared structure: A painting of a nude sprawled on a bed, she’s a redhead; An acrylic rendering of a master’s sketch distorted by
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The Killers Rhythmic breathing in an alien world – raucous bubbles respond to the slow whisper of exhalation. Above and below. Earth and sea. We lie beneath sixty feet of water, clutching stone blocks while silent killers slide amongst us. The sharks
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It’s always with mixed feelings that I put a cap on a short story, and this one is no exception. (It’s actually not that short.) I’ve worked on this so long that I’ve grown fond of the characters, and I don’t want
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