The limousines roll up to my door around 9 PM, after I’ve just woken up and wandered outside to check the mail. When I first spot them, I’m wearing the same sweaty suit from the night before, and, for a moment, I freeze in place, fearing the worst (personal extermination by some discreet government acronym I’ve never heard of). I remain frozen as the driver of the frontmost limousine steps out, wearing white gloves and smiling at me as perfectly as I’ve ever seen anyone smile. Suddenly, in my ears, some kind of auditory hallucination: ecstatic violin bowing, twinkling piano triads, and the low, crushing hum of covert surveillance. I’m being watched. Continue reading “Concerning the Limousine Sighting Outside my House”
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?”