Leka

For my mother. The girl was born Leka. It is the name that comes back to her most often, dipped in the honey of her grandmother’s voice. The name had been taken from her. Scraped away by miles of gravel and track, sweat out by Georgia summers. She feels like that about most everything from...

Short Story 1

I woke to a room in shades of pinks, whites, and golds. I tried to recall where I had been before, only to find the memories pooling and dripping through my mental grasp, splashing into a dark pool of void. The brightness made me blink, my eyes straining to adjust. I checked my limbs, flexing...