My Non-Euclidean Love
At 3:13 am we hear noises in the hall. I take off my CPAP mask and shut down the machine to hear...
Read Moreby Arthur Petersen | Oct 28, 2024 | Fiction | 0
At 3:13 am we hear noises in the hall. I take off my CPAP mask and shut down the machine to hear...
Read Moreby Arthur Petersen | Jun 5, 2013 | Fiction | 0
Teucalas once inquired of Bocologon the Mimrite, “The men of my tribe would go mad if they were made to do all the needful things one does inside Mimri. An elevated man says heed this, another, heed that. To observe all...
Read Moreby Arthur Petersen | Jun 5, 2013 | Fiction | 0
Teucalas hung from the harsh edge of the cliff. One hand clasped with Orugoro, the other held his reddened sword. Their eyes locked. He kicked off his boots to see if his toes could find a better grip upon the cliffside. They...
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