It was rather like being a ghost. Vicarious snooping. A social media haunting (stalking?). The only way to keep in touch with the untouchable children, who were no longer part of life. Maybe, the FaceBook groups should have been diplomatically UNLIKEd, given that they were only there because of previous parental responsibilities. Or the Messenger App blocked, due to ocassional earthquake requests, unsettling and unfooting in their simple, direct, but untimely demands.
Finding out a once was daughter has the lead in her drama group's next production, via accidental browsing of a stream. Realising another was home from university, only...
It wasn't entirely fair. It wasn't.
You knew it wasn't.
See that one in the back? She's yours, right?
The one barely visible?
The safe one.
That one is yours.
The one in front? Not yours, not really. Not the same way.
Polka dots. Something Sandra bought her the last time you...well, the last time.
Sandra. She's not your either, not anymore. In the end, she wasn't safe. Not really.
It's the eyes, isn't it? The eyes that get you. Maybe the sun - the way it seems to be an answering presence, a judging presence. Judging...her? You? But not...
In memory of Sanvee Ali, age 5.
He will be remembered in our home and in our hearts.
The wires passed from hand to hand in the complex trading ritual. THe boy watched raptly, taking his training with the serious concentration of surgeons and chess-masters.
"You wrapped the wrong red and pulled the wrong green," he noted to his papa in mixed Spanish. The wires were then braided into his hair, the auburn hues mixing with the artificial Christmas tones.
"The day your hair grows out of these strands, you will have all there is to desire in this world. On that day, you may cut these colors and move on to the next."
The tea kettle screamed...
Cleanliness was a virtue. They told him that.
"Who are they?" The others would ask. The others didn't believe in they. But they are there. They must be. Or else, why they tell him that?
They also told him of the magical properties of the string. The others didn't believe in the string, but he convinced them.
you must try the ritual of the string, or it will not work it is powered by nonbelievers
The others were intrigued. Still, they did not believe, but, perhaps, what harm is it to see where this leads?
Of course, the ritual of...
There once was a man named Fernando
Who encountered a man named Orlando
They met at mid-morning
But then, without warning
They were killed by a robot commando