V.18 No.47 | 11/19/2009
One Flea Spare at The Filling Station
By Christie Chisholm
A window swings open. A wiry, crumpled figure flounces into its frame and lurches onto the stage, veiling her face with her petticoat. Out of the silence and flickering candlelight leaps the terrified—and terrifying—voice of a young girl: “What are you doing out of your grave?”
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