The leaves used to be green but not anymore. Now they are red but slowly less so, slowly paling and losing. As fall goes on the leaves will subside and scatter the sidewalks and be stepped on. Some will slip into the river, the hissing river that runs right through the center of the town, consuming all sound and manifesting itself as sort of a filtered, roaring transcendence. Below the surface of the river is the real face of whoever looks. Continue reading “Homecoming (Part 3)”
There is a lot more to dress shopping than you might think; there are necklines and mermaid cuts and a-line cuts and empire waists and whatever bodices are and all sorts of sizing issues that you would never expect to have if you’re like Adam and live in a small-medium-large type of world. There are stores with long mirrors and uncomfortable benches to sit at with names that are probably not from any real language but sound fancy and french. Adam is sitting on one of these uncomfortable benches in one of these uncomfortable stores, reflecting physically on the mirrors and mentally on what he did to deserve having to take Alice dress shopping. After all, Alice is a lot of very great things, but is not exactly the fastest decision maker, as the hour and and a half they have spent in the store so far attests to. Continue reading “Homecoming (Part 2)”
Willem Mons’s head sits in a glass jar on the table, bathing in a clear-type solution that refracts differently than air or glass, inflating his eyes and nose and jowls to strange, ethereal proportions depending on where one stands. Catherine stands directly across from him, staring into those dead red things as if there was life left in them. Pyotr stands upstairs, watching his wife watch him, or the very top part of him, and pacing manically. Finally, he decides to go downstairs.
Continue reading “Pyotr”
As he returned home a total failure it seemed to Adam that he was going back into an ocean, an ocean of stucco and of sidewalks and of parks with exactly two swings. The televisions, it seemed were always tuned to news stations, where sweaty, sweatless men with red cheeks and square haircuts yelled about new controversies certain to cause immediate political apocalypse. Their voices congealed into a sort of omnipresent static, the crashing of waves.
It is through this ocean that the Subaru glides, a seasoned ship that Mom captains expertly, through nondescript, samey roads- Huckleberry Avenues and Bluebird Lanes and Canyon Circles- on the way to their own little cranny of Nevadan suburbia. Ahoy, the suburbs! Where young people go to stagnate, to have their youth sealed away in picture frames and lost forever! The suburbs! With rotating monthly dinner menus (“Oh look, spaghetti is on a Tuesday this week!”), with constant stressful chatter about 401k’s! The suburbs! Sponsored by off-brand Oreos and brought to you by last-year’s Kia Sorenta. Continue reading “Homecoming (Part 1)”
Can you feel it now?
I’m catapulting through the sky, wizzam, flash, other words that indicate speed and power and brilliance. I’m thundering, I’m barreling, I’m swallowing the entirety of the universe and the world is murmuring but let it murmur, LET IT MURMUR I SAY. I’m in the upstairs loft of my childhood home, lightsaber fighting with Dad, the ultimate showdown, the master versus the apprentice, the king versus the traitorous prince. We crash and ebb and flow and struggle, lightsabers finally meeting at a cross while we each attempt to overpower the other. “Agh!” Dad says, astonished at my strength.
Continue reading “Can You Feel It Now?”
The words taste like blindfolded orange juice coming out of Girl’s mouth but she knows she has to say them. Boy sits in the passenger seat, seemingly catatonic, though this is medically improbable.
Continue reading “Rings”