Borderlands - Christine Waresak

“And if the boy dies? Who will be blamed?” Yu Ming says when Li Wei asks him. The men are talking on the porch of their dying business venture, Lucky Jade Dragon—herbal medicine, general store, and Chinese labor contractor all in one. It is the eighth lunar month in the Year of Ding-You, or, according to the American calendar on the wall inside, September 1897. The bare eastern Oregon hills stretch endless around them. It is a landscape so desolate and vast that it still holds the power to thri

From Print Issue v. 31: “Dark Stars” by Christine Waresak

The make-believe of Disney World seeps beyond its boundaries fifteen miles south of downtown Orlando and into the city’s bars and restaurants. As patrons walk through those establishments’ doors, they find themselves in a Western saloon, circa 1860, or a jukebox joint from the 1950s, or at King Arthur’s Round Table. As their eyes adjust to the interior darkness, they see can-can girls, greasers, or knights in silver armor. Dreamlike, they walk onto an elaborate stage, out of time, out of place,

Flight by Christine Waresak, Volume 8.1-2015 « Quiddity

John was not so arrogant as to believe the cancer couldn’t return, but he had taken steps. He moved from the crush of New York City to this slow Southern town. He quit his job as a homicide reporter, where he had chronicled the strangulations, the beatings, the stabbings, the shootings, and even the jumpers, for his beat included suicides, too. He had spent so much time around cops that people with something to hide took him for one and gave him wide berth on the sidewalk; either that, or their mouths started forming excuses even though he hadn’t asked them a thing. John
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