Although it’s an October Evening… “Take a deep breath. In this uneventful wonderland, you’ll forget everything: family’s quarrels, school, bad days, exhaustion, and everything you’ve been struggling with. Just go to your kitchen and knock on the table three times. You will not regret it, I promise!” Olivia just read that on a green piece…
Tag: fiction
Beyond Macaroni Art
Beyond Macaroni Art My ten-year-old 3D-printed me a car for my birthday. He downloaded the plans from the Internet, he said. I was still making macaroni art at that age. “You like it?” “Yeah. It’s . . . something.” His eyes are shining and I’m wondering if this green monstrosity actually runs, what kind of…
On Monday I Woke Up as a Dog
On Monday I Woke Up as a Dog On Monday I woke up as a dog—a sloppy, tangle-furred St. Bernard who had grown up on the streets. As the sun peeked between the brownstone houses that lined the east side of the street, I set out to discover breakfast. A few people called out to…
Insert Story Here
Insert Story Here My first job was at a secondhand shop where nothing ever sold. “Where’s this from?” I asked my boss, pointing at a brass flowerpot. “No idea.” I had some ideas, even if they were all lies. That night, I wrote a history of that flowerpot. It started with murder and became more…
My Father is Dying in the Desert
My Father is Dying in the Desert The Stone Emperor is dying. It was just the two of us now, wandering across the burning expanse of desert, towards the far-off dream of the ocean. I stagger along in his shadow as he towers over me. The sand trembles as he walked—one step for every fifty…
The Other Side Boy
The Other Side Boy The playground was water-logged. Sidney stepped carefully. “Hey down there!” Sidney looked up, then down. His reflection looked up from the puddle. Then it waved. “Come up here with me,” the reflection boy said. “Come play.” * * * Clint looked up. The playground was empty. “Lily!” His wife came running….
The Ritual
The Ritual Lantern light glinted on stainless steel as the robed figures entered the kitchen. These figures had been my female relatives earlier that day, but now they were keepers of sacred knowledge. “Flour,” I began. “3 cups,” they chanted. I added it to the bowl. “Eggs.” “Four.” I recited the ingredients my mother had…
G is for Prank
G is for Prank I opened the shed and saw ropes hanging from my bike. Garlic. Of course. Tabitha started it by putting an artichoke on my homeroom chair. My revenge was a liquidly-ripe banana in her pencil case. She stuffed cotton candy in my gym shoes a week later. After that, the pattern was…
The Incognito Me
The Incognito Me I am beginning to like the smell of chlorine. Before this trip, the only picture it brought to mind was scrubbing floors or the stinging smell of hospital corridors. But now it smells like leisure: of early morning swims in the pool before practice or warm afternoons sitting by the water before…
Reading to Mrs. Smith
Reading to Mrs. Smith It was my first day and I didn’t want to be late. I was seventeen and volunteering to read to shut-ins in their homes. I felt every bump of the rough pavement up into my nerve-jangled stomach as I drove my mom’s car along Cedar Road, looking for number 460. The…
The Green-Walled Treehouse 