The airport was abuzz with travelers. After a year of performing for audiences who shouted “yes” to their Haitian music, Pappyon, Neg Mawan, Yatande and Zilibo—known as The Haitian Cats—were going on vacation . . .
You might think that she was a monster, but she really wasn’t . . .
It was rumored that Miss Neela’s spirit roams through the village in the dead of the night with her fetus wrapped in her arms . . .
Akashic Books mourns the loss of Anthony Winkler (1942–2015), one of the truly great comic/satirical fiction writers of the modern era.
Hark!
When the First People found her sparse remains, Karinya’s body had already entered the Eternal Circle of Life, her spirit as free as the corbeaux circling overhead.
Wait. It’s chilly here. Let me get more comfortable . . .
As usual, Deadman has left me a car at the airport, and, for the first time since Irma hit, I bump along the rutted streets of Road Town.
We all sneezed. Or maybe I just sneezed, but we all looked away at exactly the same time and, at exactly the same time, looked back . . .
Everyone knew. My mother never tried to hide who she was . . .