Kate Ryan

He died a violent death. I saw him myself, flopping between wooden blades, his head bent back strangely.

She doesn’t know how to communicate the feeling that all is for nothing, nothing is normal.

At Monster High, Jimmy Werewolf gets another demerit for forgetting to shave again.

Alison learned from her grandmother how a plastic smile could take you places—especially in a place like Hollywood.

Eva, having stayed up the whole night preoccupied with death and time, planned to call in sick.

He thought I was mad, but in an artistic way; I thought he was horny all the time, but in an artistic way.

“You are the naked girl on horse, yes?” he said, approaching her table from across the café patio.

The bread had to be store-bought and white, of course, so as not to raise a red flag among my classmates. I still see rebellion in a ham sandwich.

I saw my old babysitter at a women’s wrestling cage match.

The birds abandon their posts in the pepper trees, sending tiny, oblong leaves raining to the ground.