On Saturday, Mark ate breakfast with me before heading to work, even lingering in deference to the weekend. A month earlier, I’d fled our apartment for two nights to call attention to my despair, but exactly nothing had changed. I wondered if our small life could be enough.
Continue reading “Breathing Underwater by Katrina Irene Gould”
A neighbour two down from us was the only person we directly knew who lost someone. A family member that is. Even though just a distant cousin of theirs, it tore their family apart. Just like it did many families, and how it changed the whole fabric of how we live. Looking back on it now you wouldn’t think such an innocuous job could matter so much, that it could change everything about how we live, but it did. Of course, the tragedy of so many going like that is the main thing, the sheer lack of explanation to this day and how we do things now is borderline unfathomable. Most of all though, I think about our neighbour’s second cousin, just one of thousands, an estimated sixteen thousand, but knowing someone who knew one of them, who left us on that day, just makes it so close.
Continue reading “The Trolley Workers by Paul Kimm”
Frederic was learning how to live in the nothing. The world was tactile, it was the thudding of bare feet on hardwood floors and the sprinkle of misty rain on skin, and it was olfactory, chicken cooking on the stove, peonies, paint thinner. The sounds of his parents murmuring at night and his own name in the news on TV were muffled and far away. There was pain still in his eyes and head, pain that ebbed and flowed, but in his pain-free moments Frederic was the happiest he had been in years.
Continue reading “Hands, Eyes, Feet by Annabel Moir Smith”
Lucian didn’t want to comply.
He didn’t want to climb off his horse. Take off his sword. Or throw his money pouch on the ground. He’d been searching for the petty varmint who had stolen his property all day under the scorching rays of a bitter sun. The search left him frustrated. His heavy black robes left him sweaty and tired. And, if he was being completely honest with himself, which he very rarely was, he would have to admit that he just wanted to go home and take a nap in his cool cave and forget the whole ordeal. But certain threats had been made, kingdoms put on notice, graves robbed, damsels abducted, so, unfortunately, he was rather beyond the point of simply stopping. In short, he needed his stolen parcel retrieved and a certain level of theatrics were required to do so.
Continue reading “Lucian Boneknitter and The Bandits by Austin Roberts”
Translated from the Korean by Bruce and Ju-Chan Fulton
Continue reading “Three Miniatures by Hwang Sunwŏn”
Tabula rasa, the blank slate, has taken a new meaning in the courtyard. One recent morning I left for work and saw a Red Cat of maybe four months in a window. Almost indigestibly cute, he was a war with the window shade and was, judging by the bent to hell slats, winning a decisive battle.
Continue reading “Week 480: Tabby Rasa and Cat Commandements”
Before data can be captured, it must be desired
Steve F. Anderson
He came out of the tunnel and there she was, perched at one of the patio tables of the Greenleaf Café. Even from that distance her long, jointed legs and oversized sunglasses recalled the grasshopper he’d met that very morning on the bike path.
Continue reading “Pulse by Gregory Golley”
He says I look bad on me.
He says it’s not my fault that no one does us any kindnesses since I’ve never done a kindness for someone else, so how should I know how to receive one.
On a computer at the library, he shows me YouTubes of homeless people getting their hair cut.
“It’s not that hard,” he says.
Neither of us needs a haircut, but he says that’s not the point. The point is that it takes commitment.
Continue reading “Looker by JJ Graham”
Richard Stanley opened his mouth at the back of the school bus and told Len “You look like a rat.”
Amy Cooper giggled “Yes, you sure think you’re something Len but you’re ugly did anyone ever tell you that.”
“I know I’m ugly,” said Len, thinking “stay cool,” and noticing Amy’s acne puffed face blotchy against the sunlight that pierced bright through the windows on all the student riders. “I’m the lowest of the low, that’s for sure.”
“Going forward into a new day of learning,” he thought, “They’re telling me their truth, it’s what they do and really it’s what everyone does,” as he squinted his eyes at the the passing cars and stroked his nose “yes, kind of resembling a rodent.”
Continue reading “Miss Teen Chemainus by Harrison Kim”
Today’s treat is from an author who has already been published by us so do check out her back catalogue. We thought this piece would speak to many of us. That niggle that you know is unreasonable but by gum you can’t let it go. Amusing but very well observed. We give you In a Word – enjoy
***
In a Word by Karen Uttien
This morning, I watched a woman walk towards me. By the time she reached me, I had assessed her in one word. Privileged.
Gold Gucci sandals complimented the little black dress, swaying elegantly just above her knee. Large fashionable sunglasses accentuated glossy red lips. Long dark hair rolled playfully down her back. Golden sun-bronzed skin – a recent trip on a private yacht no doubt.
As she walked past, Chanel No. 5 overwhelmed me. Consuming me all the way home. So much so, by the time I got there, I had reassessed the woman entirely.
Her hair, although beautiful, was rather too long. Tired. Her skin was over-baked. Withering. Her pouty lips, somewhat sulky. And the sunglasses – I suspected were masking a congregation.
Yes. This once highly desired woman, was hanging on for dear life. In a word. Madonna.
Now, you realise this assessment is probably not true. No. But it does tell a truth; no one knows how others see you. Which brings me to this little story …
*
It was my friend’s 40th birthday. A best friend. Let’s call her Jenny.
There was me and Jenny. Her other three best friends, and our partners. So, 10 of us.
Jenny’s a bit flash. And very generous. A superb combination.
She hired a room on the top floor in a very fancy restaurant.
We were greeted by Don Perignon and sculptured canapes. Then glided to our seats. Chairs pulled out. Napkins draped. Swarovski filled with sparkling from the Nile itself.
There were somewhere between six and way-too-many delectable courses, each paired with our precious chef’s personally selected wines.
The sheer privilege, my new dress, the altitude, and Don – all attributed equally to my giddy happiness. The entire room now reflecting nothing less than a woozy beehive overflowing with honey.
Then, just as I thought I might explode with glee, came the speech.
‘… I have thought of one word to describe each of you,’ Jenny said, pointing. ‘You. And you. And you! What each of you are to me. My. Dear. Dear. Friends.’
She began on her right.
Inspiring. Loyal. Thoughtful. Fun. Adventurous …
Now – as I said earlier – I know one can’t see how others see you but, when Jenny and I exchange our fond twenty-five-year friendship smile, I was not expecting –
‘Dependable!’ I yelped.
The night went on and my volatile happiness wafted into a small headache.
We said our good-byes and clambered into a taxi.
As we drove along the highway, a giant billboard illuminated the skyline shouting … DEPENDABLE DRYCLEANERS!! I nodded sadly, and fell asleep.
*
That was nearly ten years ago. I still bring it up. Still throw it out to new audiences for discussion. Most agree it is an excellent trait … on a resume. And everyone most certainly would use a dependable drycleaner.
I have brought it up with Jenny. Several times. She stands by it. I should let it go, but …
The last time I felt so aggrieved – I was six. We were to perform Hans Christian Anderson’s “The Swineherd” for our end-of-year panto and, without doubt, I would be the princess.
‘But princesses don’t wear pink jumpsuits and curly tails,’ I explained to stupid Mrs Elliot.
literally stories 