The last time Kevin and I argued about the dog’s ashes, I made him cry. So for six months, his dead Akita sat in a plastic bag on my kitchen counter next to the rice, which also hadn’t been touched in as long. The Akita’s name was Buckwheat, a dumb name for a dumb dog, which was probably why Kevin loved her so much; he adored things that thought he was God.
[FICTION] Three Dandelion Stars - forthcoming in Beneath Ceaseless Skies
Each of these times, Shai wrapped Amarine in her arms, pulling her head to her chest, to soothe her. She knew Amarine was too delicate, used to the Keep with its heavy walls where nothing was ever damp or old. And now she was out here with Shai in a cottage so rotten it sometimes smelled of death, and so precarious, children told wild stories about it.
[FICTION] The Hollow Tree - forthcoming in Beneath Ceaseless Skies
I was strong every day as my father served my mother's pies through our bakery window, telling all our neighbors in Stowe that they were his. He smiled through his thick black beard, dripping with sweat and grease, joking with each person who came by each day. My father's smile was a smile I had grown to hate. But the town hadn't. They always said: "Silas Baker has such a wide smile to go with his sad eyes." They always said: "There are no pies sweeter than Silas Baker's pies." They always said: "He must make his pies so sweet for his lost daughters."
“Our names are Anna,” my babysitting charges said. “They’re palindromes.”
They were so identical the electric propinquity between them falsely signaled: Twins. They smiled. I shut the door. No way, I’ve read way too much Stephen King for this.
[FICTION] The True and Otherworldly Origins of the Name 'Calamity Jane' - Published in Beneath Ceaseless Skies
"This is a good deal," the gallery fairy said.
"It's better than your previous attempt," the witch said. "Your man would be proud."
"I said, he's not my man."
"But you were in love with him from the moment he paid for you," the gallery fairy said. She slid behind Jane, running her thin fingers down one of Earl's old jackets. "Your heart belonged to him, from the moment he said 'You're a different kind of girl'."
A couple hours after she left, I was washing my dishes in the sink when Gorgeous started barking bloody murder and I wheeled to the window. Down a ways, light was shining out like Jesus in the Manger at a million watts. There for a couple'a minutes, then was out. But Gorgeous, she kept on growling, so I kept on watching.
[FICTION] Old Grey Mary & The White Raven King - Published in The Lorelei Signal
[ESSAY] The voice told me to end my life: This love quieted the voices better than any pill - Published on
- Author Spotlight with Turn to Ash.
A tale in multiple parts about Tamrat, an Ethiopian Suri man, and his efforts to triumph over his enemy, his father, and his past. It is both a love story and a story about overcoming trauma. Part One posted August 2017. Subsequent chapters to be posted in the coming months.
Flash fiction piece about a young girl at her last fitting for her last dress. This piece was from a prompt given at the 2017 Kenyon Review Writers Workshop with EJ Levy. Trigger Warning: terminal illness.
Wherein a young man takes a trip to Maine to find himself and does exactly that, in a roundabout way. A ghost story based on the legend of the Dames Blanches.
Three Elvis Impersonators want to move to Las Vegas and retire like the Kings they are, after one last job.
Sati Devi meets her first husband, and the Maharaja his second wife in this historical fiction piece.
It's been raining in Ohio for 60 days, and one woman is afraid the long-ago murder of her husband may finally be revealed in this speculative fiction piece.
All stories © Jordan Kurella, 2015-2018