The last time I saw you alive was on the corner of 16th and Mission begging for money which I knew was for drugs. And I thought about the time when we were around 12 or 13 and cooked some hot dogs in my backyard using Kleenex tissues for the fire and wire hangers to hold the hot dogs, but didn’t realize that sparks had caught the fence so that when we returned, the firemen were there, and the only thing that kept us from going to juvenile hall was my grandmother assuring them that our parents would deal with us severely. And I remember that I was grounded for weeks and lost my allowance for months to help pay for the fence. [Read more…] about Steve
Spider on the Windshield
There was a spider on the windshield. It didn’t move. The mid-November rain stopped 20 minutes ago and I’d forgotten to turn the windshield wipers off, or at least had forgotten to put them on the lowest setting. The wipers were going full speed and making weird dry-rub noises against the windshield, but to the spider they must’ve seemed like they were on a full-blown, vengeful, arachnophobic attack. The spider still didn’t move but it was able to dodge the wipers as if it were a stuntman in a James Bond film lying flat under a passing truck during a fight scene. I finally turned the wipers off after 10 seconds of crudely wondering how the spider would navigate this situation. It didn’t navigate at all. The moment the wipers were turned off, the spider decided to turn on its 8 legs and started moving towards the top of the windshield. The amount of real estate it had to cover given its size and depth would be the equivalent of a football player running 100 yards, end zone to end zone. Maybe this spider was Jerry Rice, or maybe it was just a spider. These are the thoughts that run through my mind when the weather seems to be even more Bipolar than my doctor claims me to be. [Read more…] about Spider on the Windshield
Crazed Against the Machine
My ears pulse and hum, pushing in on me. I swear they’re going to collapse… or explode… and then I’ll be deaf. Forever.
Forever.
Forever.
That’s a really long time.
What if I don’t make it until then? What if my forever is over? Oh, God. I can’t breathe. There’s a hippopotamus sitting on my chest and it’s fighting with the lion that’s clawing to get out of me. It hurts. My lungs, my ribs, my heart, they hammer and stutter and hammer again. Testing me, making sure I’m still alive.
[Read more…] about Crazed Against the Machine
Co-Conspirators
My grandmother slid her tiny frame under the stall door and cussed the Atlanta airport. “Goddamn quarter to pee. The kid’s five years old, can’t even reach the coin slot yet, for crap’s sake. Bet your ass they don’t pay at the urinals.”
The latch clicked as soon as she was in. We took turns on the toilet and held the door for each other. When she was done she slid the latch and propped open the door for the next woman. We washed up and walked out with heads high.
[Read more…] about Co-Conspirators
Painted Black
By Veronica Sweet
Painted black walls, painted black mirrors and blacked out windows. Sunlight peeks through the faded paint on the window. Velvet curtains were then brought up. Too heavy to allow sunlight to sneak through. I hate the velvet, there’s something disgusting about it. Velvet is likened to skin, which I can remember too distinctly.
When I stand close to the window, anger raises deep in the pit of my stomach as I hear people outside. They speak so loud and shout curses daily. My mind tells my body to be nervous, scared even when I hear the voices of people I will never meet.
[Read more…] about Painted Black
The Understatement
It all began when she walked into her new workplace and saw a friendly shock of hair amid rows and rows of cubicles. And when the owner of the hair introduced himself to her as Malhar later in the day, she knew she would fall in love with him.
She slipped parts of his personality into all the artworks she did after that. There would be a random observer in a nature scene that she imagined to be him, a boy with his dimples in a rustic hut, his curly hair on an urban lass in a pub, his red Che Guevara t-shirt in a political scene… He was in everything she did, although he could never know that. Even while he admired her works, he never smelt his inspiration on the drying paint. She was elated and disappointed at the same time – she wanted equally to be found out and to keep her secret. [Read more…] about The Understatement
Driving Cattle
By E. A. Schweitz
I detest the morning status meetings, but I sat there and listened to Peter drone on about numbers. My mind drifted as I stared at the barely tepid synthetic sludge—the snarky label read coffee.
Who didn’t know that Station 53 was in the red? That corporate management drove short-term profitability at all costs?
“OK, Peter. Just stop. I get it,” I interrupted.
His worried eyes widened. “Yes, Ms. Ott. Sorry—”
“Don’t apologize, Peter. And, call me Mary. Please.”
He looked at the floor. “Yes, ma’— Mary.”
Peter was too nice a kid for this job. He’d never survive.
“Let’s take a walk,” I said. [Read more…] about Driving Cattle