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Kay Levine Spencer lives in California’s Santa Cruz mountains with her husband. With their four hands, they’re building a house. Last fall, she won a prize in Stand magazine’s international fiction contest.
Evil crouched above him in the eaves, watching, soundless. Infinitely patient evil, colorless, invisible in all lights. If evil has a mouth to smile, it was smiling. Its long waiting had at last been rewarded.
November 1989Phillip Fanno was playing with his food. He gave his pork chop a mashed potato beard and moustache, a julienned-carrot nose and mouth, and, not finding suitable eyes on his plate, cast about the table for them.
September 1988Jenny sat inside the roar of the plane, concentrating on distracting herself. She was flying to Seattle in response to one of those phone calls during which the world momentarily freezes in its orbit. “I’m a friend of your father’s,” the woman had said.
June 1988Has something we published moved you? Fired you up? Did we miss the mark? We’d love to hear about it.
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