Fiction

A Map to the End of the WorldHis cane was a gentleman's weapon easily a century old, a simple cylinder of dark wood that concealed a narrow rapier of tarnished steel. He showed it to me one day in early autumn, in his apartment. It seems to me now that that day was when I first truly knew him, apprehended and understood him in full, as he handed the sword to me. I took it in my hands with careful reverence. There were roses and thornbushes engraved in the blade. Read more »

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Today’s writing lessonEvil is never abstract. It is always concrete, always particular and always vested in individuals. Read more »
Intruders & Prowlers
Overheard on campus
August Aurora
Scent and memory
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