Dear Mom,
Do you remember this picture? I do. I remember a lot about those days, when we were a family. Yesterday, I recreated this exact image with my daughter. Tess turned five on Tuesday. She's so excited to start school next month. I'm only scared that other kids will ask her about her family. I don't want to tell her that most of her family didn't want her. I don't want to tell her that Grandma and Grandpa wanted her to disappear.
I have no idea if this letter will make you love my daughter but I want you...
Woof woof. Woof woof woof woof woof. Woof. Bark woof. Woof. Woof woof woof. Bark bark woof bark. Woof.
"When I was 12, I went to sea."
I looked up blankly. "Went to see what?"
"No. The sea. Big blue wet thing. You may know it as an ocean."
"No need for sarcasm." I muttered. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did you go to sea? Especially at 12. Other people go to the zoo. Or to the pictures. Or they go and visit the sea, they do not - unless that's what you mean? I'm going to start telling people I went to sea at 7. I'm sure I did. Probably got sunburnt or almost drowned or got eaten by...
"Stop. Look around you. What can you see? The nearest human is over ten miles away. You are alone. Quite possibly more alone than you have been your whole life. There's a physical aspect to this feeling you're having, this aloneness. It's relaxing. Take a moment. Feel yourself relax. Feel your heartbeat slow. Feel you mind de-clutter and expand into a space no longer populated by others. Feel those invisible boundaries dissolve."
The voice paused and Karen became conscious of the slow drum beat that she must have been hearing for some time. She could hear the rhythm of her...
The button glared at her from the opposite side of the elevator. Her eyes were strained from staring at it. The harsh elevator light that made the button cool cold and hatefully professional. It made the emotions associated with the button written in neat braille and caps lock seem to be resolutely finite.
She had been standing in the elevator for too long now. It was now or never. She shook herself. Ignored the panic bubbling in her thoat, choking her, and clawing in her belly, and stood straight.
Her sweating hand pointed her slim finger straight, and she jerked...
The moon was judging me. There was no doubt about it. It was staring me in the eye like a big pizza pie. Judging.
Okay, fine. Maybe I shouldn't have spread all those rumors about you, moon! No, I don't believe you're actually made of the blood and sweat of innocent cheeses. No, I don't believe you're the one who secretly caused the Great Chicago Fire, or that you tap our phone lines and replay particularly embarrassing conversations with ex-girlfriends back for the constellations. I just say these things because you frighten me, quite frankly.
I'm only human, though. What's...
When you dream you can dream in color and any color will do. The more vibrant the better. When I'm old i will dream in purple because I read a book once that said purple was an elderly color. When I was young I dreamt of popsicles and bubblegum the colors of the rainbow and pink hues. I remember all of my dreams giving them varying degrees of importance based on my age and how seriously I'm taking myself. Dreams about indiscretions are the best. I wake up and realize that I didn't do it after all. I didn't cheat...
She'd have preferred the electric chair. Instead, she got the eclectic stare. Why did she always attract the weird ones?
There were two hot girls at the side of the bar. I walked up to them.
"Hi," I said. "My name is Patrick and I do not want to get laid."
"That is very admirable," one of the girls said. "Especially since I chose this dress because it shows off my ample breasts."
"Both of us are ovulating," the other girl said. "That means that our bodies want babies even though we, as social creatures, have no desire to be mothers at this exact moment."
"It is a good thing I have no desire to father children with you," I...
He walked back, the small rocks crunching under his feet and the lips of fish sucking to his fingers, as if they were still alive and able to do even that most simple of things. It was a daily walk, and one he was quite accustomed to. It was a monotonous job, there are only so many times you can make the same three mile journey before you start to get bored of even the most beautiful trees and streams. Of course, he may have been able to appreciate them longer if they hadn't been cut down and irrigated away,...