Sunday, 1 March 2015


by Jason Preu

In the end, Virgil and Violet Kemp sway on the creaky swing which sits out back of their country bungalow. Serenading cicadas nestle within a thick mix of black and cherrybark oaks. Tears well in their eyes as the twilight sky before them fills with an abnormal golden-green light. Violet's body tenses and Virgil inhales sharply. The sky brightens to a blinding intensity as waves of searing winds tear limb and bark alike from the old, oak trees. Soon, a rolling wall of emerald fire follows, incinerating the bungalow, porch swing, and two half-empty glasses of warm, honey-lemon, iced tea.

Author bio: Jason P. Preu lives, works, and worship avocados in the Kansas City metro with his wife and two children. 

His writing has recently appeared or is forthcoming in Holdfast magazine, WORK magazine, and the anthology Vignettes from the End of the World.

Jason can be found on-line at:

Twilight is part of 101 Fiction issue 7.

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