Swink was on of my favorite literary journals based on its main page, which never updated. And in that was much sorrow. It showed up, stuck around, and then stopped publishing. But that changed in January 2010. It's back, and putting out good stuff again.
One of those good things is this story here. The trouble with nightmares is that when we're in a nightmare, we rarely stop to think that they aren't real. And somehow, nightmares seem all the more heinous when we are children. Conger milks these facts in this piece, presenting us with Andrew, a kid who can't tell reality from dream. And neither, in a sense, can we, since the two worlds don't seem all that different. And that's what makes this piece so horrifying. Read it here at Swink.
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