Inspired by Alice Godliman’s poem Pomegranite Seeds Myth recounts that Persephone was kidnapped by Hades and taken as his wife to the Underworld. Her furious mother, Demeter, goes to fetch her daughter back, but all who eat the food of Hades are condemned to remain and Persephone has eaten just…

We hear rumours of her journey as she flies towards us through Europe. Her cloak covers towns first, the busy ports, then it grows outwards from the seams of main roads. It will cover us all in time. Father Matthew says it is Pestilence sent from above, punishing us for…

It is dark and red outside. Dark and red like the night our parents were killed. We sit together, bundled close against a rock outcropping, a few feet from the train track, a few feet from where we had been left. The train station that isn’t. Just a stop, really.…

A boy lived with his father and mother in the woods far from the city. There was a lake nearby, deep and clear, and when it was cloudy the lake shown silver like slick, wet metal. The boy and his father would play by the lake then, throwing sticks and…

The night I died, the cold permeated everything. The kind of cold that got into your bones.  My fur had thinned so much that I feared hypothermia may kill me, but that wasn’t how my story would end.   It was unusually dark at the edge of the forest. I could barely…

She remembered hardly anything from before. Certain colors hinted at larger things, but what exactly those things were, she didn’t know for sure. The boy tells her the world was a variation of purple before the Fathers disappeared. Like thistle or plum, she asks, but the boy is preoccupied with a wooden…

Imagine if the Evil Queen only ever saw Snow White in her mirror: a porcelain face, blood-red lips, ebony black hair created by photons streaming through glass, hitting the silver coating, then reflecting toward the queen’s gaze. Would you be able to trust such a mirror: one that conjured an…

Hidden amongst curtains of trees, the young maiden Asteriope wept by a pond. Her tears fell onto the water’s surface, rousing the nymph Daeira from her slumber. She emerged from its depths to find the maiden. “Girl, why are you crying?” the nymph inquired. “My betrothed has left me for…

We hid our fathers’ flasks under the folds of our pea coats. Wandering fixtures among the smoky mist of quagmire fog. The cypress and it’s long swaying branches seemed more alive and it wasn’t just our inebriated psyches that made these visions so. It was the movements, the dancing between…