Short Fiction/Memoir

Josh Mackin on | Categories: Signs | 0 Comments

The Roaches of Matrimony

Even now, I see a smirking pair of compound eyes in the sink overflow. I observe an ovate silhouette imprinted on my optic nerve. And in your eyes, my love, I have put the shadows of fluttering wings.

The Curator

Where We Left The Octopus

“You have never killed before,” he said, a statement of fact. “Bring me the corpse of an octopus. One you have killed with your own hands. You will find yourself in this act of bloodshed.”
And he motioned us out the door.

The Curator

Passports Four, Five, and Six Pt. I & Pt. II

For starters, my fifth passport was destroyed by fire. Not a house fire, nothing so tragic as that. I did it myself. Under my own volition. It came in the mail when I ordered it after my fourth expired on my 26th birthday, and I received it, held it in my hands for a few moments, and then threw it into the microwave, upon which it immediately burst into acrid flames.

The Curator

The Democratic Pleasures of the NYC Health Department Rating System

The vain reaching for transcendence furnished, if only temporarily, by the seductions of a totalizing narrative. The feeling of being part of something greater.
And all this attached to that single letter B at the whiskey bar we pass every day.

The Curator

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