Fiction

A crop from the cover of Yiming's book
The Islander

The world must appear strange as you peer through our hero’s eyes. Your eyes now.

An image of the spirit bride looking at a chair with a photo on it
The Spirit Bride

I had a kind of premonition, even before a word was said, that things were about to shift.

A body floating above a table
A Rage to Live

That so much night could exist within a city entranced me.

one arm pouring whisky into glasses in outstretched arms with one animal limb reaching out for an apple slice, all on front of a snowy night background
A Night with Smiley

Unrelenting snow, bottomless drinks, unexpected acquaintances, and strange sights.

A whale's tail in the water, everything is a hazy blue.
Midwives

It’s weird how hitting the ground doesn’t really hurt.

A black and white step-wedge image of Algonquin Park
Two Songs

I once mistook loving a story for loving a person.

A red-headed woman and a black-haired woman embracing
Two Wives

At night she would try to dig her way out, and I would pull my stitches tighter, snipping off the tips of her fingers. 

a detail from a sliced orange
Her Ex Writes a Novel

Fiction is a more subtle and sophisticated revenge porn.

A girl and a drone stare off at night in the jungle
Post-Conflict Combatant

They were no longer comrades, but post-conflict combatants. The war is over, he said, a phrase he would keep repeating throughout the day without emotion. It’s over.

A close up, black and white image of a woman's eye
Jamie's Last Day of Term

Today I heard five Shakespearean insults walking along the corridor, and if I hear one more, it will be a good day, an even day.