Page 8 - Issue 159 News Today : Breaking News, Live Updates & Top Stories | Vimarsana

There’s something in the woods behind the house. Laura can hear it through the open window underneath the patter of rain as she nurses the baby. The thud of paws against the ground. The rush of breath as it snuffles, searching for food. Third night in a row. Each night, the something hunts along the same path between the palm trees and the fence line near her bedroom window. Each night, it sounds like it’s getting closer. The baby’s lips and tongue pull at Laura’s nipple three times and pause, three times and pause. It’s not the consistent rhythm he uses when he’s awake and hungry...

How to rebuild me when I fall apartAfter Roger ReevesI want a spine a gun barrel throat. A voice with steel boots.I want to command a lover who leaves devours me.I want to rent my body to a soul brave to be naked in this body in the street.

The Café Delice menu was just big enough to hide Rosemary’s face if she ducked down. She had made sure to sit with her back to the window, so that the afternoon sun fell directly on her quarry: the late middle-aged couple sitting two tables in front of her. Rosemary’s face, already well hidden by the café menu, would be even more obscured by its backlighting just in case the man (Dave or Dan or Stan, one of those names) decided to turn around. This was an extra precaution she did not have to take, since Dave/Dan/Stan, salt-gray hair, freshly shorn pale nape above expanse of work-crumple...

My love mentions that people see stars bestfrom the corners of their eyes, that conescatch color in the centers, but it’s the rodson the outsides that fetch the dimmest portionsof the visible spectrum—and I am forcedto reconcile with the fact that something so roundas vision still pushes people into corners

—a painting by the British artist J. M. W. Turner.