I’ve got a short story in this fall’s online issue of the Maple Tree Literary Supplement:
“You can see the light of Calgary for an hour before you see a single street lamp, a glow of orange like a grass fire. I press my face against the passenger side window and look up at the sky. My wedding ring blinks with the light of each passing car, but in the sky, not a single star.
At home, we’ve got a gas station, two churches and three restaurants, including the diner, but our town doesn’t have a hospital. So we have to come up here, where The Machine runs from six in the morning to twelve at night.”
To read the rest of the story and see the full issue, visit:
yutaka dirks 