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The Migrant Type · 3d ago

Amethyst Magnet

A wounded moon, she tries to escape her orbit and arcs her way starward in some fruitless ...
The Migrant Type · 1W ago

Cabin. Lake. Action.

Afterward, her first instinct was to make her way to the cabin upstate. When she saw his t...
The Migrant Type · 2W ago

Riding the Blue Shard

It's the blue train, the coal train. How did we come to be lying on these tracks now it's...
The Migrant Type · 3W ago

Refugee Songs

There's something deep in the dripping forest that's darker than anything else in this wor...
The Migrant Type · 1M ago

Levees of Sand

Somehow desolate, he woke to the sound of the distant surf. Low tide. The harsh sporadic g...
The Migrant Type · 1M ago

"Dark Was the Night, Cold Was the Ground"

Even if he'd been a small man he'd have been a big man. But he was a big man. I see him i...
The Migrant Type · 1M ago

Monarch

The wind gets up and sweeps our fires into streams of sparks, and we huddle closer inside...
The Migrant Type · 2M ago

Los Irish

This short tale is only a small part of something larger, I'm hoping. Oh, and happy St. P...
The Migrant Type · 2M ago

Back Story in Green

“The world began without man, and it will complete itself without him.” — Claude Lévi-Str...
The Migrant Type · 2M ago

Some Dire Indian

Stillness. A lime-green-and-cream fifties model Buick by a lake. Backdropped by a silent b...