Most recent stories

Of Dreams that Dance and Die, Before the Drums

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At eight o' clock: as, drawn by many bells, The patchwork congregation lopes and stalks, To churches far from serenade of shells To storms, we leave behind the windblown walks, And sails of youth, to glide through liquid hells, A temporal…

Epilogue as Prologue

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There is no heartbeat, Mrs Stirling.

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I lost a baby two years ago. At 8.5 weeks after seeing her heart beat. I haven't been able to talk about it, but I can write about it. My throat cracks and splinters when I begin to form a thought or word or phrase. I took such great care when…

A House Burning

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There won't be dancing, anymore. That isn't true, that can't be true; but there is no floor to dance on, you know?

The Only Tricks We Know

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The day Eugene told me his secret he gave me a bouquet of lilies. Ice clung to the petals like fuzz. Sorry about the frost, he said. That was an accident.

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 58

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On October 14, 2009 Oriana Morosini appeared as the guest author on America’s most popular live television book show: The Author Answers

A Scalar Boson a Day

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. . . the empiricism of the mechanical had wound tight into her, lessons her few calendars could never impart without aid from sundials, hourglasses, clocks.

Arcana Magi Pure Vol.6 - c.3

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The streets were filled with animals of the forest. All in a panic trying to find a direction. Mixed among them were members of various Clans that lived in the forest.

Aristeia

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And no one died achieving aristeia/ in this battle. We have come/ at least some little distance.

Hello? It’s Me!

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But I surely did recognize Rayburn Moon; Rayburn and I dated for about five minutes back then

A Good Sized Puddle Suits the Fish Between My Ears

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Tell me everything about yourself, if I could care, I can pretend, let me pretend.

The Other Side

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The Fourth Prague Defenestration: Prologue

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My first and so far only visit to my homeland of Prague was first described to me by a tourist guidebook, which laid out many of the fundamentals one must follow while travelling there. It was pointed out, for instance, that we would be “unlikely to enc

During the Interim

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Nothing changes; the moon arcs its mindful lemon eye. . .

A Night in the Trailer of the Headlining Band

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Take

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Mother O'Grady's Last

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Christmas night was closing in at the Cantrips alehouse in Aberdeen, a firm favourite for riggers and other men and women who lived life close to the horizon. Sometimes, on a Saturday night, things might get a bit rowdy but Mother O'Grady would stand firm and bring out…

Reunion

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You’d think we all would have learned something in our hearts since the towers fell, he thought, as Amy slid away from him. You had to get some perspective on the city, some view from outside, far outside, maybe from space, which would have afforded them

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 57

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"Ben! Ben!" yelled Monique. "Did you hear me?"

Death

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fate is an illusion we use to ease the terror of our mortality

Postcards from a Private Park

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First movement I. The town that I…

THE BIRTH OF THE BLUES

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The blues were born on the ghost train that rolled through the Delta and gave Memphis breath back in 1902. It's low moaning sound brought young black men running, dogs hot in pursuit, toward glory that danced in a moonlight…

Poem for Amy Winehouse

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Last night I spoke to the universeon your behalf. I don't know if anyone understood my plea, but I did it, I knew what I meant to say out loud, heard myself implore the great cosmic stuffing we're all fluffed out of to pleasejust give you a…

Autumn apocalypse

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Beneath maples, oaks, and birches/an autumn apocalypse empties unruly brightness

Xmas Letter 2015

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Another year has flown, crashed to the ground, and convulsed to its death in a final match with the meaninglessness of existence. Decided to try my luck as a Walmart greeter this year but the apomorphine treatment made me break out in hives and I reacted…

A Storm A-Brewin'

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"I'm just saying," the older man continues, "We oughta be ready in case she hits." "We'll be fine," the woman says. "We've weathered every storm that's ever come through here just fine."

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 56

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Airports are always a casino, said Oriana

Spiders

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Ten am, and the piledriver behind Rhys's eyes shows no sign of mercy. Beyond the safety glass, caverns of empty air tumble down and out to where the edge of the city is lost in the murk. The figures on the screen pulse and phase with the hideous internal rhythm of his…

Somewhere in the deep grasses...

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The Ghost

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I wrapped my arms around each of them ran my hands over their face, and kissed their lips. "Why are they dreaming?" I asked.