Andrew Hudgins

Curled in curled folders, the last reports were filed by hands infirm now or gone. The men in the reports mostly returned home and mostly died quietly. Others remained for the next war and a few the war after. Months, even years, go by without our re [...]

In his dissolving mansion, autumn’s author is an exhausted autocrat, dying faster than the falling house is falling. Rainfall, raw and raucous, claws the roof as he dodders down broad halls, rattling knobs inalterably locked. Once all gloss, paunch [...]