Grimm Modernity by Jesika Brooks

 Issue 9 (January 2010)  Comments Off on Grimm Modernity by Jesika Brooks
Jan 142010
 
Grimm Modernity by Jesika Brooks

“Herr Grimm,” said the professor, staring down the side-burned, half-cocked smile; a man who knows too much, a German in modern fairytale. “Und Sie auch, Herr Grimm.” The brothers snigger behind their cell phones. “Greta ate too much Kinder chocolate.” The hallways, awash with rumor, foiled tongues: the Grimms listen, tap out the stories on

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Tears in the Sea by David Sklar

 Issue 9 (January 2010)  Comments Off on Tears in the Sea by David Sklar
Jan 142010
 
Tears in the Sea by David Sklar

After the single went silver, Dad bought us a house on the Jersey Shore, but he wasn’t there with us much because he had to go on tour. And every night, after I was supposed to be in bed, Mom walked to the beach in her nightgown and cried into the sea. My bedroom’s on

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Goddess of Insects by Jacie Ragan

 Issue 9 (January 2010)  Comments Off on Goddess of Insects by Jacie Ragan
Jan 142010
 
Goddess of Insects by Jacie Ragan

The honeysuckle was blooming, supporting the swollen sky and twisting the fence away from the wild roses, thorns and barbs holding the still and secret nests. I wore shadows and walked with regrets, following the paths of ants, searching for that luminous face in the thunderheads, in the puddles, in every web and fleck of

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Her Heart Would Surely Break In Two by Michelle Labbé

 Issue 9 (January 2010)  Comments Off on Her Heart Would Surely Break In Two by Michelle Labbé
Jan 142010
 
Her Heart Would Surely Break In Two by Michelle Labbé

Much later, when she is a queen, she will remember it this way, and regret: It begins with a breeze lifting tendrils of her hair as Eleanor straightens in her saddle, but she does not brush them away from her eyes. She must be a statue, immobile and perfect, before Catriona, the new handmaid. Catriona,

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Jan 142010
 
Bad Mothers by Anne Brannen

I knew my elder sister would return to sweep the ashes. She would part sugar from sand, she would fill my mouth with honey. She would bring shoes, red ones with buckles. She would raise me. I would be buried under the juniper tree, I would be cooked in the stew, I would be eating

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Jan 142010
 
Nor Yet Feed the Swine by Keyan Bowes

“Your hair,” says Teagan. I blush, glad of the confusingly dim glow of the candle in the Thai restaurant. I’m sensitive about my wild dark curls, at once glorious and unprofessional. Teagan leans forward. “You should always leave your hair loose, Shawanna.” He’s got a charming smile, bracketed by two deep dimples. “Like a princess

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Living in the Land of Folklore by Linda Ann Strang

 Issue 9 (January 2010)  Comments Off on Living in the Land of Folklore by Linda Ann Strang
Jan 142010
 
Living in the Land of Folklore by Linda Ann Strang

I remember when Rapunzel lived with Aladdin, magical lanterns alight in her hair, and Goldilocks was Sindbad’s lover — so tenderly he took off her dress, and blew her porridge cold. Then he went away to sea to found a heavier city of gold. A jack-in-the-box drowned my friend and my phoenix both, like Henny

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In The Forest of Thorn by Anna Yardney

 Issue 9 (January 2010)  Comments Off on In The Forest of Thorn by Anna Yardney
Jan 142010
 
In The Forest of Thorn by Anna Yardney

“It was barely three months after my husband died when the Thorns swallowed the castle.” This was the tale, as my mother told it, her hands shaping and slapping the dough rhythmically. “I was young and heartbroken at having lost him so soon after we married. I suppose I became less cautious or simply cared

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Jan 142010
 
Harpsong for Heurodis by Amanda Lord

Cuts shallow, burns small. Scars grow like hoarfrost. What poisoned words pierced your heart pulling you beyond my reach? Torpor reigns where passion shone. Blossoms bloomed in May’s sun, as blood ran over the green. I’ll not bind you with cloth or iron. I’ll not leave you to slip beneath the hillside. Instead I’ll bend

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Harp by Alex Wilson

 Issue 8 (September 2009)  Comments Off on Harp by Alex Wilson
Sep 012009
 
Harp by Alex Wilson

We are always in motion. It’s how we breathe. We are always in song. It is life. The wind on our strings vibrates us from crown to pedestal. It reverberates out beyond our pedestals. It propels us forward on the cloudsoil, and our paths renew the shape of our world. The cloud has never before

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Sep 012009
 
In the Ashes by Gerri Leen

“History favors the victor, Monsieur Grimm. So you will forgive me if I do not seem terribly excited to see you?” The woman turned from the small window in the tower room, mocking me with her expression. I nodded stiffly and sat down at the table. It and the chairs were the only pieces of

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 Posted by at 10:33 pm