Author
Avra Margariti
Headhunting
The tinfoil sun scorched the desert road as a figure rode on horseback, carrying a disembodied head by its long hair. "You could let me go, you know," said the head, which belonged to an old man. "If I do that, you'll dine on dust," came the headhunter's reply. "And I won't be…
Ananke
In these forms our minds are bird nests of broken, tangled thoughts: leaves and twigs and mud, run and jump and survive. We can't fly but we use the wind to our advantage, arms spread, membranes catching drifts as we hop from tree to lichen-covered tree, always above ground.…
Safe as Houses
Our bed isn't ours tonight. Two people who are not us occupy it. When they reach out, their touch sinks right into us. They might as well have run us through with a sword as we gasp and howl to rival the wind. The couple in our bed sit bolt upright. "Honey, did you hear that?"…
The Capes We Wear
You don't know this, but I've been here before, watching the flying robot monkeys attack Trafalgar Square. I was on the other side, the wrong side. The monkeys used to be under my command. "Uncle Elijah, quick!" you yell, seconds before you black out from the nearest monkey's…
The Death of Bees
My online friend is writing an essay about the depleting bee population. I look out my bedroom window at the lavender bushes. Fuzzy insects land on dainty purple blossoms. "How come our bees are all alive and thriving?" I ask my parents during homeschool. They exchange a look…
Twenty Things You Did While You Were Sleepwalking
1. Sobbed in my arms as if the world was ending, then forgot all about it in the morning. 2. Washed the dinner dishes piled high in the sink despite it not being your turn, wrist-deep in foamy water until the skin of your knuckles cracked red and raw. 3. Tried to call your…