“The Art of Vanishing” Marrow Magazine, Issue 5, March 8, 2023.

“Horror spikes deep inside Juliet’s body and radiates out with needle-like pains in her chest. ‘Police are looking for the public’s help in finding a missing woman…'”

“Bone to Rock” The Journal, Issue 46.1, November 1, 2022.

“When I woke, I had been under the earth for so long flesh had fallen away from my bones. ‘Where am I?’ I called out and my voice echoed back to me in the limestone chambers of the caverns.”

“Mine Brook” Cotton Xenomorph, September 20, 2021

“They failed to investigate how a cluster of trees, willowing up, could so closely resemble a group of women. This place, bordered by the highway and behind the cul-de-sacs of identical new houses, is our home. We are mystical queens who sleep here in the shape of trees.”

“Open House” Dappled Things, Mary, Queen of Angels, Vol. 15, Issue 4, December 2020

“When the doorbell rang, Mona was secretly hoping the blond Jehovah’s Witness girls had come calling again. Not because she felt on the edge of conversion, but because they spoke to her so kindly. They would sit with Estelle too and talk, like friends. In fact, they were about the same age as Estelle, and no one else came around to see her daughter anymore. Mona could tell that Estelle made them uncomfortable, how she blurted out whatever thought came into her head, whether appropriate or not.”

“The Case of the Eclectus Parrot” Grist: A Journal of Literary Arts, Issue # 12, 2019

“Inheritance” Yalobusha Review, Issue #29, May 2019

“For as long as Emmaline Kingsley could remember, her mother believed in the ability of objects to harbor evil spirits or bad omens. She never questioned this fact, nor wondered if there had been a time when her mother had believed in other things. Until one morning, that is, as she waited by the front door to leave for school and considered the clocks. At eight, the tiny gears of two Black Forest cookoo clocks cranked forward the time, the doors swung open and miniature fairy tales, rendered as German wood carved figures, marched out of their dark cave to perform their predictable dance to the familiar song.”

“Crash & Fly” Neon, Issue #29, February 2012

“Airplane

Steel body. A coffin in motion. Can be torn apart like a child’s toy. Acronym names. Machines. Cold blooded. I never thought I’d get on one again, step across the threshold to the rows of seats and feel that plastic air breathing on my neck.“

“Halo” Pidgeonholes, August 2019

“1. What if I told you I believe in miracles? Would you understand on the day I survived (died), a part of me escaped to the stars and pulled the dark sky across my body like a blanket? Would you understand if I told you this with a flippant tone, as if telling an old joke, while drinking coffee grown cold in the mug and chain-smoking Parliaments, lighting one off the dying ash of another?”

“How a Picasso Painting Helped Me Move Past Numbness After Trauma” Catapult, July 15, 2019

“The Tragedy showed me that the shape and pattern of my previous self still existed beneath the surface, and had only been covered over by my experience. I understood in the process of breaking open from numbness that I was not in fact dead. I had not been erased by the violence I’d suffered, but was, instead, changed by it. A new, difficult layer had been added to my life.”

“Strands” The Rumpus, April 22, 2016

“I dreamed I was Medusa. My hair fell out in clumps only to be replaced with tiny buds of serpents and, as the snakes grew in length, their cool, dry scales skimmed my scalp. Each thin body in hues of bright blue and green were identical. Their red tongues flicked in and out of their mouths as they searched me, smelled me. When I woke, tangled in the sheets, the darkness offered little balm to the fear of the dreamscape. Instead of being grounded in the reality of my familiar room with my husband asleep in bed beside me, I still felt the slithering reptilian bodies. I reached up with tentative hands to touch the crown of my head in an effort to dispel the phantom dream sensation. There I felt my hair and the bald spaces where my hair should have been.“