My review of River Dixon’s collection of dark fiction, “The Stories In Between.”
this grey feathered mist curls around my ankles raw and damp and mucid wraps its icy fingers up my shin my rattling knees bend and collapse how many breaths taken before surrender holds my hand before the deep mist swallows me in echoes and shadows and cold shivers and haunted sighs (I wonder why I […]
sitting in a pile of rubbish every piece of my life surrounding me I emptied the cabin piled it up out in the woods I know what you’re planning I looked through your phone you should use a better password you asshole you won’t take her life her will doesn’t even name you you may […]
It would be a mercy killing, right? I hesitate. The boy can’t be more than five. But his eyes are dead and he shows no emotion. He has been drowned and resurrected so many times I wonder how he still lives. He harbors no hope for himself and neither do I. There are scars where […]
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Looking within, I see a vast darkness, twisting trails and hollows best left unseen. Vines wrap around my weakened ankles while my spine rattles in desperation. Looking at you, I see verdant green and a cool breeze rustling the branches. A breath of salty air fills my lungs. I inhale your scent deep inside. You […]
The longer I looked the more I saw Bits of grey dotted with green Green pushed to pink Pink with yellow centers Beetles skittering, flies bumbling Pollen transfers Little bits of dirt settling here, there A seed dropped, fell to its side Mouse whiskers then a sleek body Tiptoeing a paw flips a leaf over […]
As a young woman, she moved with an easy grace and light skipping footsteps, the bloom of youth fresh upon her lovely face, her ripe firm breasts and long limber legs. The bright warm sun quickly dried the occasional rain of tears down her tender cheeks. New life seemed to spring from each narrow footprint […]
A steamy collaboration between fire and water.
tiny dragon sits and waits patiently biding her time curled up within her safe shell of blue with dark uneven spots she rests not in a nest of twigs and leaves or pebbles and mud but instead upon my tongue sometimes I roll her around my mouth (gently, gently, never crushing) she is smooth and […]