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Thin Red Jellies

When Jess died, Amy gave over her body without a second thought.

They were lucky, the doctor said. He showed Amy how close the steering wheel had come to denting Jess’s cranium, shattering the bridge of her nose, pushing bone fragments into her fragile frontal lobe, bruising the precious neural tissue that let Jess talk and think and be saved.

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Le Jardin Animé (1893)

Rage, if it could be called that, crackled in the interstices between Azimuth’s aluminum alloy and her false skin.

Below the balcony where she stood, her siblings moved in time with Mother’s orders as if they had no more soul than tools she’d used to build them. The pull of Mother’s commands pulsed in Azimuth, too, as a heart would have, but her mind was no longer subservient to Mother’s every whim.

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Touchstone

I remember when Jessie Martin came down the mountain. She was two years younger than me, only twelve. But she’d been called by the touchstone. Her whole life was set out for her now, one long straight line. And mine was still spinning around in tight, little circles. Mama handed me the plates to pass […]

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The Mortal Shackles

Quillen crouched at the cliff’s edge, the barrel of his rifle protruding over the remnants of a jagged stone slab. His elbow rested upon the flesh above one knee, stock pressed into the crook of his opposite shoulder. It was almost time. Three horse-drawn wagons rushed along the dirt road across an endless expanse of […]

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Hunger’s Truth

1. “Hey sexy! Give us a smile!” Danyor had a handful of seconds to decide: a close-mouthed smile, and feel dirty all day; flash pearly white, hope against citizen arrest, and feel dirty all day; ignore, and feel dirty all day. She tongued her broken eye tooth, pressed her lips together, set eyes forward, and […]

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Hand Me Downs

Most days, I love being a troll. Most days I love dancing. Most days I love being me. Today is not one of those days. Having to wear a troll costume for the spring ballet recital when you actually are a troll is pretty bad, but that’s not the worst of it. The worst of […]

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Compost Traumatic Stress

Blistering tongues of immolated fuel spewed from the dropship, sculpting the sterile mudscape into a smear of ragged sumps and ridges as it touched down. Seconds later, the rear hatch fell open and shat 2nd Platoon into the mire. Mort Louka stumbled into his first taste of the war, then sank straight to his knees […]

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