Crow

Our house, lakeside and lofty and a soft dove-grey; a prime nesting location for the area’s birds. My mother, who loved them, would never allow us to move a nest, not even that of the crow who flew in our window and began to nest on our kitchen table. The kitchen was unusable until the eggs hatched, so we ate every night in the dining room on an enormous mahogany table my mother had salvaged from a downsizing convent: deep dark lustrous wood that whispered hymns and incense....

Read More

World's End

By noon, everyone knew we had less than ten hours to live. It was frightening. Not just because the world was ending, though that was enough. Our fear was compounded by the knowledge itself, which had seemed to arise out of nothing, untraceable. It had no origin, no solid foundation, and yet everyone knew; we saw confirmation wherever we looked. The sky seemed lit from beneath. The birds were silent. The air was full of strange silent energy, a subtle electric charge I’d never felt before. And on every corner one could see some number of people, couples...

Read More