Joseph Shaw

“Water” by Joseph Shaw

Nick wiped his brow. A sheen of sweat coated his face; he licked his lips and could taste it, sour. The sun beat down and burned him raw. He breathed in the air, the familiar salt smell of the sea, and lifted his head to survey the ocean. There was nothing but blue on all sides, stretching for miles. The only thing that impeded his vision was the gentle curvature of the earth.The motor chugged away, snarling, and he was carried forward. The further he went, the more he felt himself swallowed by the sea. He was no bigger than any other f...

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“The Asphodels” by Joseph Shaw

Submitted to Contest #86

The skeleton, flat on his back beneath the shade of the elm tree, was where he had always been. Plants grew on him. Shoots of green grass rose around his spine and up to his ribcage where they fluttered, waving in the wind. Clumps of grey-purple lilies outlined him, appearing in his armpits and around his arms, cascading along the sides of him all the way to his feet. Darkened by the shade, the skeleton’s teeth curved in such a way that he looked always to be smiling. From the black hollows of his eyes two solitary white asphodels grew ta...

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“Cosmic Winter” by Joseph Shaw

Submitted to Contest #80

Johnny’s twelve-year-old legs bicycled, rustled, shot him out through the open screen door onto the porch. “They’re going to shoot a nuclear bomb at it!” he called, bare feet creaking the wooden floorboards, dislodging their cool dust. Johnny’s parents, reclined gently in lawn chairs, kept their backs turned to him, as though they had not heard. They were stony-faced, watching the sky cave in. “We’re lucky, you know,” said Father, talking to no one in particular, words dispersing, particles lost in air. “There’s half a chance they’ll v...

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“The Imago” by Joseph Shaw

Submitted to Contest #79

Mother was in her dreams.  “A butterfly,” she said, looking at Mother. “What does a butterfly have to do with it?” They were in a meadow. Tufts of grass plumed up around them like little green fires. The sky overhead was a deep blue, vast and wide, bluer and fuller than the sky had ever been in the waking world. There were no trees, only plain, undulating meadow for miles and miles, touching the blue horizon like the confluence of two rivers.  “A butterfly,” Mother said, and as she spoke a richly-colored monarch butterfly flu...

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“The Cold Room” by Joseph Shaw

Submitted to Contest #75

Cathy lived alone. The house was much too big for her, and much too empty, but it suited her purposes. There was a cold room in the basement, which she considered to be of the utmost necessity. Her father had left the house to her when he died. She was his only child, his only family, for that matter. Cathy’s mother had died before Cathy had known her, or before she could form memories, anyway. Cathy was twenty-one years old when her father passed. She was twenty-three now. Her father had loved her more than anything in the world.Cathy was a...

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