You might be disappointed to know that all our plans for the nuclear waste sites went to hell. You know, all those glorious and Romantic designs we made thinking “Later civilizations must understand this: We mean danger, death, and DO NOT ENTER.” We really should have known by then what humans are like. After all, […]
Read More This is Not A Place of Honor
And she found, as she sat near it at the window, that she truly did hate the thing. She had grown up very used to the absence of people in her life: her father, who had raised her himself after her mother split, had done more working than staying home and she had always been too cold to make many friends or find love, wherever it was. This ugly, lifelike thing seemed to almost breathe. It sat there with far too much presence for the woman to be comfortable. She regarded it with mild disdain and said, as if to a living person “Don’t look that way, don’t look so tragic and comfortable in my window. I hate you and I’ll have you gone before the week is out.” She paused as if waiting for a rebuttal, but the statue merely looked on as if she hadn’t said anything important at all.
Read More A Light in the Window, a Fire in the Hearth
A week after returning home, Ada helped her father clear away her mother’s presence. Clothes and shoes were put into boxes in the basement, her paintings–endless bleak desertscapes–were carefully wrapped and stored. The only thing allowed to stay was her dresser, with all of her perfumes and lotions still on top. They did, however, move this into Ada’s room, because even though her father couldn’t look at it all the time, he still wanted to every so often. Ada kept the dresser in her room but never touched a single piece of her mother’s finery. The perfumes, combs and hairbrushes went untouched because she didn’t want to make her father even sadder by walking around looking and smelling like her mother. How much help she was, Ada didn’t know because every now and then she would find her father sitting at the dresser and holding the different perfumes near his nose.
Read More The Prince & Queen (Part 3)
Ada turned to stare at him. Silhouetted by the fire she looked even smaller and frailer than before. Her eyes were hard and bright, though, and she didn’t seem at all warmed or amused by him. For a full minute she stared hard at him, then she crossed her arms and sat back down at his table. The thought crossed his mind that Ada was really just a terrified, lost kid, holding all that feeling inside with tight seams. Another moment of silence passed and just as he was about to say something awkwardly encouraging, her stomach growled loudly.
Read More The Prince & Queen (Part 2)
We all know that life for children is a dramatic balancing act on the line between bullying and being bullied, tormenting or being tormented. As a child I stuck close to Darwinism. I wasn’t raised that way. My father didn’t teach me to be so afraid of the world that I had to grind it down into the ground just to feel safe. My mother never told me that the only way to avoid cruelty was to be cruel but, being a child—and a particularly unlikeable one—that was the only truth life had taught me so far. And I, like everyone else my age, taught it to someone else.
Read More Joy
As I open my eyes and discover these monsters, there is a pause–containing infinity–where I look up and into their eyes and my whole heart is calm. I am the eye in the storm of fear that looms around me. Then I chug the last of my drink and swing my barstool in a wide circle around me to get to the door, which I kick open with phenomenal strength, breaking the hinges and the wall.
Read More On March 17, 2017 I Had This Dream