When Tigers Used to Smoke by Jeffrey MacLachlan
When tigers used to smoke, there were houses where death didn’t come. When night fell, fog poured in from the woods, and the decrepit inhaled sweet purple steam. Cheeks smoothed as if exiting a long spa, and posture restored itself … Continue reading
Serpentes Love by Renjana S.
I was given no contract to sign, no disclaimer listing the drawbacks of being human. No one told me that my tongue would begin to split at the slightest emotional trigger, that my skin would start to wrinkle and fold … Continue reading
Before and After the Battle of Los Angeles by Mark Danowsky
Oregon, 1927 A bowler hat is seen in flight Volunteer firefighters snap a photo The hat drifts off into evergreens * In 1952 the hat visits Passaic, New Jersey * 1960: the hat goes on holiday to Italy with two … Continue reading
Aftermath by Lisa Baird
She saves spent light bulbs, wraps blown bulbs tenderly in tissue saved from birthday parties, stows them in stacked boxes, carefully labeled as close as she can get to the exact time the tungsten fragmented. She holds a service for … Continue reading
I Followed Lydia into the Great Thaw by Shelby Tuthill
I came upon Lydia in the garden, plucking her one-eyed cat’s glass eyeball from the soil. Flakes from the white winter were burrowing into the ground, into the blood- stream of the earth. Bluebells reflected in her eyes. Twigs snapped … Continue reading
Medium by Ann DeVilbiss
A hand, eggshell white, hangs over the chair’s arm in a stillness that draws out the dead. Where before she seemed ordinary, now she flickers as though lit with a faulty bulb. The room perches on the rise of each … Continue reading
The Coldest Woman Still Alive by Maria Mills
You want me to tell you what’s going to happen? Grease ice will form first, then slush. We must be careful not to bury too suddenly those who are very cold. A woman in Norway skiing in the mountains fell … Continue reading
The Ghost’s Story by Gordon Brown
I thought she’d be fat. I thought there was a rule about these things. You don’t get to sing Wagner unless you’re a rosy giantess. Unless you look like you stepped out of a paint by Rubens. Then and only … Continue reading
Second Birth by Shahé Mankerian
When we killed the wolf, the butcher began to carve open the stomach. Inside the fuming belly, we found a sheep, a cock, a hood the color of pomegranates, Parlophone records of Lili Kraus, a Citroën hubcap, Bonaparte’s last letter … Continue reading
Issue 7: Resurrected Things – Editors’ Note
It turns out that dragging yourself out of the grave takes time, and we’re so grateful you stuck with us as The Golden Key has worked over the past several months to slowly, surely bring ourselves back to life. It … Continue reading