By: Janna Vought The world is wrong about me I’m a genius, broken girl sprung from Hell. Hell, where nectar flows from stone flowers and blackened apples shine. There are no humans here, only ghosts and shadows. Descend slowly, dark angel,…

By: Obinna Ozoigbo A laconic cigarette dangled from the corner of Grandpa’s mouth, smoldering, as he parked his sleek Ferrari near the river. A trilby hat sat on his head, concealing his hairless crown, but revealing wispy tufts of grey…