Kate Ryan

One of my biggest fears is having a random stranger ask me, "how it’s going?" They might as well ask if I’d like to step into their van and get murdered.

She couldn’t imagine the water she sat in, the water that enveloped her body, wanted to be here.

It was a tradition of theirs. When siblings Sue and Johnny went home to their mother’s for Christmas, they watched the 11 o’clock local news.

A bloated mother in her polka dot one-piece gnaws on a corndog while reading the romantic pulp she picked up on her way out of the supermarket . . .

Recently, it was announced that the Ocean’s Eleven remake will be ladies-only too. Could it be that we’ve embarked on an era in which women take center stage?

Light some candles and use those bath salts you've been saving for a special occasion. Masturbate for 55 minutes.

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

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

I have no choice but to start all over again, tomorrow or not at all.

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