Vol. 3, Issue 13
“The Creepin Woman bent the shadows. She was at once tall like a pine tree and as short as a child skipping rope in the street. She was dressed in all black with a face and hands white as a sheet. Her fingers were bony. Her teeth sharp like knives and she had a long tongue that was licking her lips as she watched Cressie. Pulling at the shadows around her like flailing limbs were the souls of the traveling men. Their cries—oooh oooh oooh—trumpeted her presence.”
-DW McKinney, “Cressie Girl and the Creepin Woman”
Cressie Girl and the Creepin Woman | Fiction
A folktale for back porches and slow nights; a tale for my Granddaddy. Cressie’s mama gave birth to her on the pew of the church. She lay back, split herself open for her child, then handed Cressie Girl to Big Ma before she passed on. It was a good thing...
One Good Shot | Nonfiction
Cypress trees stand in shallow water along the shore of Phelps Lake in North Carolina’s Washington County. When dawn arrives, we are there, spread out along the L-shaped wooden dock with our tripods positioned, wide-angle lenses mounted, apertures set, each eager to...
Three Sisters | Photography
Three Sisters Archival, acrylic-encapsulated print on Kodak Endura Metallic paper. Exhibition size, 24 x 36″. Three silos stand watch over the farmland in northern Montana, a trio of robust sisters huddled together in private discussion. A string of birds enter...Follow Us
