Stories
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July 16, 2026
What Happens in the Library
The door-latch clicks. Into the dimness comes the faintest of whispers, a scratching like someone writing words with iron gall ink, a goosefeathered quill. Her round-toed walking shoes come to a halt, and she leans…
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July 16, 2026
Little Red Church
After six surgeries, I stumble over the church’s threshold for the first time in years. How to explain this reborn need? I have wandered cathedrals, their great reaching arches only stones; through the reliquary glass I…
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July 16, 2026
After the Funerals, the Dancers Speak
You and I will soon escape from our dirt-encased homes. Bone will show through the wound from your car accident, while my lungs will still bear the marks of that fatal tumour. Free now, we will climb over the…