Rainy Day

how-to-use-the-ouija-boardCarol and Jan lean toward each other over the old Ouija board they found in their Pop-Pop’s attic. They each have their fingers resting gently on the stylus. They look at each other, each expecting the other to start something.

“What?” Carol asks.

“Nothing! What, yourself?” Jan retorts.

They both grin until the stylus suddenly starts to move. Their grins fall away, replaced by narrowed eyes.Read More »

Advertisements

The Boss’s Office

http://www.ignorancia.org/en/index.php?page=The_office [CC BY-SA]“Do you know why you’ve been called here today?”

My boss sits behind his heavy black desk. He looks at me across pictures of his kids and one of those physics toys with the silver balls that clack against one another. Somehow, his cycles through a pattern of movements without slowing even though I’ve never seen anyone touch it.Read More »

Little Brother

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/legalcode“Welcome to the creep show!” announces Adrien, his blond head peeking around the door frame.

“Mo-o-o-o-m!” shouts Danielle. Her friends roll their eyes and throw wadded up tissues at the small boy.

Their mother steps up behind him and scoops him into her arms, tickling behind his ears. “Adrien, leave your sister alone. Let them get dressed in privacy.”Read More »

Family

paper heartsBeep. Beep. Whirrrr.

Beep. Beep. Whirrrr.

The machines keeping her alive provide a lovely, calming background to my preparations. She radiates beauty, her pale skin and russet curls stunning under the crisp, white sheet. She reminds me of fall leaves and bone china.Read More »

Heirs of War

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/legalcodeMisha huddles under a thin blanket. She is alone. Papa left to join the fighting men weeks ago. Mama went out two night ago in search of food—a potato or some bread, perhaps—and hasn’t come back. She is too cold and thirsty to cry. She curls herself into a tight ball around Papa’s stocking cap—the one he wore to plant the garden when times were better and which stills smells like him. She wonders where he is now, if he’s curled up somewhere—cold and thirsty—and thinking about her. Misha closes her eyes against the frigid darkness and tries to sleep.Read More »

Team

paintball“You said you were on my team!”

Nine-year-old Dana stood in the middle of the field, a large green splatter of paint across her chest. Her sixteen-year-old brother, Walter, peeked over the edge of a stack of hay bales. To his right, several of his buddies howled with laughter behind a small shed.Read More »