Chello Sherman is an emerging artist and writer with an MFA in Studio Art from Moore College of Art and Design. Her work has recently appeared in GNU,Fish Food, The Warren, Sliver of Stone and most recently in Artists in Recovery.
Even before she joined the circus—before she was surrounded by grifters and phonies—Evangeline understood that if you wanted to work as a psychic, you needed to be able to authenticate your gift. Her abilities were limited to seeing how someone was born or died and the...
'There were bodies, human bodies, attached to the trees. The corpses stood upright against the knotted trunks everywhere the eye could see, each body tied with thick ropes around the chest and legs, though Officer Wesson thought he could see wires added for extra stren...
‘The being brought me this far, now it was up to me to decide. I pressed the broken seal of the vacutainer to my lips and sucked. The blood felt like mucus on my tongue. I jerked my head back and sucked harder, like a sorority girl downing a Jell-O shot’
'Attentions became distracted, whether in admiration or lust or resentment, and no doubt she used each reaction to her advantage. No feminism for this Breeze, because she didn't have to. No demands for equality. Doors were opened.'
Connie empties a container of crayons onto the kitchen table and rushes to another newly-remembered hiding place, frantic with industry. Her footsteps return, arms stretching up towards the ceiling, triumphantly brandishing glue sticks and plastic scissors. ...
I drag the knife across the skin
of a mango, travel the circumference
of its red-green shell, a bead
of juice seeping out at the seam.
Dig my fingers into the flesh,
break the fruit apart into uneven
halves. I hand one to you, lift the other
to my mouth...