Fiction

February, 1935 Margaret moved through the darkness with her arms outstretched as if she was going to wrestle a bear. She couldn’t see the icy patches, but she knew they were there. By the time she got to the end … Continue reading →

The chasm was a long grimace in the mountainside. It narrowed as it went deeper into the earth, but no one knew how deep it went. Three children huddled around the widest part of its opening, which was only a … Continue reading →

My boyfriend is moving to Mongolia. He tells me this in February, when he’s not my boyfriend, but rather some guy I sleep with on weekend nights. “Mongolia,” I say. “That’s amazing.” Then I search for my bra in the … Continue reading →

The big news was that we had a college student from the Mainland as a summer missionary. The Wai‘anae Church was sharing one of its three summer missionaries with us. They kept Lorna McMichaels, a pasty blonde with thick legs … Continue reading →

My stepfather Des got famous, eventually. Fame of a particular stripe—for writing a handful of the most soul-throttling country songs of the seventies and eighties, for a drinking habit so dedicated that it verged on religious solemnity, and for the … Continue reading →

The principal leaned across his desk at Jennifer and cleared his throat. He was a small man with small hands, and these hands, she noticed now, were trembling. “It has come to my attention,” he said, “that there have been … Continue reading →