Stories by
Stephen Orloske

No one is watching how I weep into the earth, thought Abel as his brother’s cudgel fell again, that now there is neither one God nor many.

Stephen Orloske moaned upon an apple tree yesterday, because he’d nicked his finger with pruners.

This story was the winner of our 5-year Anniversary contest.

I just stare at the moon, mother said, every time—even the night you were conceived.

Stephen Orloske once encountered a witch in the woods doing something very nasty to her kitty.