Kate Ryan

Surviving the Apocalypse didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy a little romance.

My parents got the idea they’d send me to stay at my grandparents’ house in Florida for a week. I think my mother needed a week to herself.

She couldn’t imagine the water she sat in, the water that enveloped her body, wanted to be here.

Hollywood continues to flounder in a dick-sucking frenzy of self-congratulatory white male directors, writers, and producers.

Is flagging potentially offensive material taking the PC movement too far?

The case of beer I brought, as my mother explained, is “pure poison” and so I must drink it all by myself.

My tights are cutting me in half at the waist . . . just like a sausage in its casing.

One of my biggest fears is having a random stranger ask me, "how it’s going?" They might as well ask if I’d like to step into their van and get murdered.

It was a tradition of theirs. When siblings Sue and Johnny went home to their mother’s for Christmas, they watched the 11 o’clock local news.

The birds abandon their posts in the pepper trees, sending tiny, oblong leaves raining to the ground.