Kathryn Kulpa

“An Old Story”--Micro-fiction, published in Pif, Vol. 28. Click here to read the full story.

Excerpt:

Sitting up cross-legged in bed Sunny stared down at the wrists he had kissed that one time. She linked her hands around each wrist as though hiding invisible scars.

And now you can leave me, she told him.

I can't yet, he said, my foot's asleep.

Both of them laughing at such drama.

“Deep into the Darkness Peering”--Short story, published in Terra Incognita, No. 3. Click here to read the full story.

Excerpt:

The ghost comes to him each afternoon at three, more steadfast than the most faithful lover. He never speaks to her. He does not know her name or remember her face. He does not know why she was chosen or what she might require of him. He only knows that she comes to him each day, and that each day his mind seems less his own.

Her patience cannot be exhausted. His torment can never end. Nor her sorrow at his torment.

I know.

For I am the ghost that haunts him, the red skirt of a memory he can never dance away.

“Palm Sunday”--Micro-fiction, published in The Pedestal Magazine, No. 23. Click here to read the full story.

Excerpt:

She likes his hands best. How they droop out of too-big cuffs. How his fingers are long and they taper, like the hands of artists, of saints. She thinks there is something medieval about him, illuminated, as if he couldn’t possibly exist in this world. She wants to paint him in sunset colors, an Umbrian landscape. Raw Siena. Burnt umber.