Opah by Gavin Duncan
I’m evaporating in your sleep, melting through the seat cushions, and now, just when you thought this feeling meant something.
I’m evaporating in your sleep, melting through the seat cushions, and now, just when you thought this feeling meant something.
The moon was an achievement for all of us. It was also a dimly lit, grey place, where revelry was what we made of it.
She glances downstream toward a big evergreen—a white pine, maybe?
Google, find growths that are pale and stringy, that looked like fat hairs the one time he let you see them.
Another week had passed since her hair progressed from green to blue to indigo, and she was sent home to await violet, the final shade.
He would have his clients lie supine on the floor, place them into trance with a combination of murmured incantations ...
For all the talk of warmth and rebirth, spring is a really ugly season. Trails turn to mud pits and roads to rivers as the thaw begins to take hold, and the brown carcasses of what was left at the end of fall begin to reappear. The ground cover is a layer of partially decayed leaves, and all the damage the winter did is slowly revealed.
Sometimes someone will drown in another part of the river and I can’t help, because the river is large and I am only one person.
"But she doesn’t lie still, she continues to thrash and moan, spraying blood across the ground and staining the foam at her mouth red."
"The astronomer had calculated where the planet we were looking for would lay: the “Goldilocks” zone, where the star’s heat would neither be so close that the planet’s water would boil nor so far that it would freeze—the temperature at which life was likely to form."