Magic & Moonlight


Featuring stories by  Christopher Green, Rhuar Dean, Joseph Brodsky, TJ Fox, and Tiffany Michelle Brown; performed by Amber Bogdewiecz, Jere Williams, Mark Woollett, and Sicily Rockmore. Hosted by Andrew Lloyd-Jones at KGB Bar on 2nd December 2015.


Can I See You Again?

by Christopher Green

It happens so abruptly: the woman is not there, and then, like a heart attack or a good idea, she is there. She sets down her beer glass on the narrow, lacquered oak table, slips her purse from her shoulder and rummages until she finds her phone. When she checks it, its glow spotlights her blunt-tipped nose, her wide, curious eyes, her dusting of freckles. Then she puts it away, and all that remains of her is what the skyline around them can illuminate—pale highlights around the contours of her shoulders, down the threads of her hair. 

Read more >


The Ear

by TJ Fox

The ear lay motionless on the nightstand when he awoke. Ennis blinked. The ear remained. Ennis yanked the covers over his head, counted to ten, and peeked.


Aside from its disembodiment, it was an unremarkable ear. A smidge large, perhaps, and with an unusually fetching helix, but otherwise average. Had it been there all night?

Read more >


Looking Glass

by Joseph Brodsky

You think the old man is kidding at first. Who needs a tour? You’re here to buy a mirror, and even if the shop seems to be going on longer than you’d think possible, there is ample material on hand to create that sort of illusion. You’ve been walking with him for what seems like a very long ten minutes already-- but between the way the light shines off of every available surface and his shuffling, arthritic walk, it’s quite hard to gauge distance or time well.

Read more >


We Share Everything

by Tiffany Michelle Brown

When my brother, Damon, fell out of a tree at the age of eight, I fell out of my chair at school. Screams poured from my mouth like angry bees, causing Penny Williams to break her pencil in two and Mr. Biggs, who taught in the classroom next door, to pop his head in.

I clutched my leg with my eyes squeezed shut. I was afraid that if I looked down, my leg would be cracked in two―neatly, like the broken limbs of a porcelain doll. Of course, my leg was in one piece. But I couldn’t stop screaming. 

Read more >


Blood Moon

by Rhuar Dean

They were eight feet away. The stinking fuckers. You could hear them sucking our air. I couldn't see them yet but I knew they were close. The silver moon lit up the path like the electric city streets far away. I signaled to my Lover to be quiet, she was hot for it and I was afraid she might moan. Maybe I could just take one of them - a weak one struggling at the back of the line that they wouldn't miss until it was too late. That'd be the ticket. 

Read more >