The Misery

By Kaitlynn McShea A September wind sighed through the city. Beatrice closed her eyes and leaned into its cool embrace. Simultaneously, bells from the cathedral reverberated through her skin, marking the hour.  It was time. Within her loose fist, wings tickled against her palm. A wasp battled against her fingers, searching for a way out. Continue reading “The Misery”

A Child’s Revenge

By Kaitlynn McShea Sara-Jane’s earliest memories comprised of long, stuffy summers at her grandmother’s house. Lights off, windows open. The front door was perpetually left ajar—only the screen door saved them from a barrage of mosquitos and gnats. Its metal frame jostled with every footstep that traversed upon the wooden front porch. The people ofContinue reading “A Child’s Revenge”

Fascia Dreaming

By Kaitlynn McShea I dreamt about fascia again last night–how its synovial hardeningand gooey hydrationis akin to the Elmer’s gluewe used in school,pressing it on our pencil boxesto make bookmarks,sliding it on the pads of our fingersto make fingerprints. How it can be used to fix or to adhere,how my body holds stories as muchContinue reading “Fascia Dreaming”

The Talkies

By Kaitlynn McShea November, 1927: Hollywood Colleen Adams grew up believing in nothing. From Santa Claus to God, she knew falsities better than a con artist. The one truth she held to her chest from the time she could speak was that she would be a star. The only problem was her wide, blue eyesContinue reading “The Talkies”

The Almanac

By Kaitlynn McShea Grandma Frenchy set the teakettle on her small stove. Everything about the apartment was small: the ceiling, the hallway, the rooms, the counters. It was small because it was subsidized, and it was subsidized because Grandma Frenchy was dying. Not the quick, painless death her son had acquiesced to, a heart attackContinue reading “The Almanac”

Watering Hole

When we enter the ephemeral  Nail salon, we are struck By her naked, acrylic nails, tapping against the glass. Another: her pantyhose hugs against her folds,  Slicked up with sink water as Taught by her mother’s mother’s mother. On another, mouth slightly agape, she naps  While her feet Are scrubbed raw of their histories. YetContinue reading “Watering Hole”

Cassandra of the Dunes

An urban legend retelling inspired by “Diana of the Dunes.” Cassandra at Dawn Cassandra watched as the white-crested waves crashed onto the shore. She and her family had come to this beach every year since she was two. It was the same every year: lazy days of swimming and ice cream and sunbathing. But thisContinue reading “Cassandra of the Dunes”

Magic: A Personal Essay

From prayers and rituals to astrology and necromancy, magic predates written language. Depending on your views and spiritual background, the conversion of magic and religion can be a delightful interaction or a forsaken rendezvous. Within my daily life, I am captivated by finding the magical moments, or the blessings, that enhance my existence.  In quandamContinue reading “Magic: A Personal Essay”

Christmas Magic

Jan was having the devil’s own time this holiday season. It was Christmas Eve, and for once in her ninety-three years, she had nothing to look forward to. Her ginger cat, Charles, curled in her lap as she sipped her morning coffee. Her late husband’s budgies squawked in their cage more aggressively than usual–as ifContinue reading “Christmas Magic”