In her old age, the Virgin Mary moves to your town in the North Carolina backwoods, buys a fixer-upper and…

You were 48 hours old when I called the midwife and told her that my uterus was falling out, hanging…

Sister Francis’ long black coat whipped behind her in the wind, clipping the heads off dying dandelions and scattering white…

When the boys’ father came to pick them up at their mother’s and take them for the day, he was…

When Tía Amelia died, we ordered KFC. “Kentucky Fried Cruelty,” she used to call it, before biting into the flesh…

She calls herself Rat Girl, but she looks like a little Swiss doll. Now in the Chapel, she is singing…

The Marys—mothers, daughters, whores, saints, queens and killers—meet every Thursday afternoon in Riverside Park during the spring and summer months.…

The rookery is disguised as a shed. I keep a lawnmower and a pair of hedge trimmers for the sake…

For breakfast, Zip and I will eat a rancid jar of olives, a brittle feather from the windowsill, and a…

The ghosts have come looking for my maid, but the maid is not here. The maid is out back in…