by Zakia Carpenter-Hall | Jun 30, 2026 | Featured, Prose
When You Must Stop a Wedding His phone pings; the morning sun glares. Kyle staggers to the bathroom mirror amidst empty bottles for inducing oblivion. Red-eyed and dishevelled, with stubble masking gray complexion and black hair in matted clumps;...
by Zakia Carpenter-Hall | Jun 28, 2026 | Featured, Prose, Uncategorized
Thunderstorms. Fireworks. I’m in the spare bedroom/office. Chrysty’s in a rotten bad mood. she walks the apartment like a donkey stable. kicks holes out of drywall and violently washes up plates. she’s told me get out and I’ve...
by Zakia Carpenter-Hall | Jun 21, 2026 | Featured, Prose
The Last Key My father died with all his keys still on the ring. House key. Padlock key. The tiny brass one for the old suitcase he never opened. Office key for a job he left in 2002. A car key for a Toyota that rusted behind the house. I...
by Zakia Carpenter-Hall | May 27, 2026 | Featured, Prose
Unsent Dear Gregory, How’s “James Dean” doing? I had a feeling our little stunt would work. I knew the second he saw us kiss, he’d come running back to you (you’re welcome, by the way). It’s kind of sweet how much effort he puts into that...
by Zakia Carpenter-Hall | May 23, 2026 | Featured, Prose
THE JUMBLE SALE The entry fee for the jumble sale at the homeless mission costs 20 pence or a pair of men’s jeans. I don’t have a pair of jeans with me would you believe. My quiet piece of silver plinks into the plastic bucket, and I reflect what...
by Zakia Carpenter-Hall | Mar 28, 2026 | Featured, Prose
Unmedicated We were happy people once. Not naïve, just animated, social, alive. We gathered constantly. We danced at weddings, at birthdays, at no occasion at all. Even grief had witnesses. Sadness visited but never unpacked its bags; it simply...
