Snapshots of Dust

BRADY KIM
I visited my father’s house last week.  I straightened the picture frames on his nightstand, the glass caked with so much grime and filth that you couldn’t even make out the picture.  I swept the dust from the lonely halls, the wallpaper cracking and peeling at the top so it cast a shadow across the wall when you turned on the buzzing yellowish lights….Continue Reading Snapshots of Dust

Wash

ODESSA IKELS
Claire crouched in the cool wet sand, marveling at how the topwater surrounded the sides of her feet, small sandals abandoned behind her. The ocean roared in her left ear, cliffs invading her peripheral vision as she examined the place where the water meets the shore….Continue Reading Wash