she kept bird feathers in an old mason jar beside her bed. every night she would pick one, and blow sweet, freshly toothpasted air through the meat of it. sometimes dust would fly away with the wind, other times a few clingy strands of the feather would lazily float through the air. every morning, she would pick one, and slowly stroke her face with it, making soft rotations until she felt alive again. she says it stopped the dreams from coming real. one day, i worked up the nerve to ask her, "how do you pick the feathers you do?"...
The audience stared open mouthed at me. I was petrified at when had just come out of my mouth. Then Amy Smythe began to cry. I don`t blame her, I would have cried, too, if my co-star had called me a stuck-up cow on stage. I could feel the Drama Teacher coming forwards to kick me off stage and tell everyone that there had been a mistake, that the show couldn`t go on now that it`s star had obviously had a psychotic episode onstage. Jeez, I was in for it now. My principal was going to call me in tomorrow...
The old trash can on Drake and Washington avenue was the witness to the biggest mistake of George's life. Sadly, he threw in the carnations he had bought, sad remembrances for ideas that should have died long ago. They covered his old manuscript like flowers on a grave.
The winter of 1970 in the Bay Area was not something I ever expected to experience- especially since I was born in 1990. My folks scolded me every night for sneaking into the backyard whenever there was a full moon. It wasn't my fault: grandpa planted the story about the time-well in my head and it sprouted into a maddening obsession.
My hair was now curly instead of wavy and my hands reverted into the pudgy state of toddlerhood. Who was I, in this time, and why was I only a spectator? My new parents talked about the lunar landing...
Absent. The roots were absent but you could still see them. When you burn a stump, you often end up with a chunk of its heart that doesn't turn to ash. The interesting thing is how the fire always seems to follow the roots, no matter how deep they go, burning away every trace of them. Sometimes, even a year later, a fire can rekindle from deep in the earth where it was banked in some hidden location. Looking down from above, you can see the faithful reproduction of the root system only it's just air. Hollows that disappear into...
Okay, look. I had this idea that this was going to be a nice relaxing trip.
It was.
And we were going to come out here --
Yes.
And enjoy ourselves --
Yes.
And not have to deal with stress. Do you understand?
Yes, of course.
And now, what do you see?
What do you mean?
What do you see here?
I don't know... Trees, blue sky --
Stress!
Sorry?
Stress. It's stress. Every direction I look is stress.
Okay, look, you need to just take a breath. Remember what they said at the clinic. Deep breaths.
Stop it. I...
Shit.
Bob hit the switch again.
I'm not too surprised because he's the biggest klutz I've ever had the misfortune to know. It had to happen the one day I forgot my tethers.
I took a quick look around. No nearby trees to grab. The neighbour's dog was starting to lift. That *was* surprising. That bitch was huge.
The dog, I mean.
I was about 10 fet off the ground now and slowly accelerating. 'Bob, you wanker. Can you hear me?'
He stuck his unshaven face out the window. 'Wot?'
'You hit the switch again, right?'
'Wot switch?' He stuffed...
It was a surpise to discover that grandad's home disappeared down the sink hole. The ground literally swallowed him up, not a trace for over ten years.
Now I was grown up, I was allowed to stand around with the paramedics and police and watch the removal of the body. I didn't avert my eyes like Mrs Wozniak standing next to me, one moment excited and chattering, eating ham and mustard sandwiches, spitting crumbs, next moment for once in her life she was quiet. The reality of life versus CSI on tv. Soon after turning her thick neck away she...
The woman at the window was dead. I knew because it was my sister. She appeared whenever we left the house. We no longer looked around up at the top floor to see the dark shape behind the thin lace curtain. We had seen her too many times before, her wretched, contorted face imprinted on our minds.
Martha died in a house fire seven years ago. Accident after she left a burning candle on her bedside cabinet overnight. It tipped over as her blankets were thrown back during a nightmare. Dad couldn't reach her in time as the room had...
Groggy from the lack of sleep I got the previous night because of a runny nose and a running mind jumping from one work thought to the next, I walked into the office kitchen to grab some hot tea to soothe a sore throat. As I was about to pour some hot water from the water cooler, my colleague dispensed some water for herself.
"Getting some water?"
"Yeah," I said.
"I heard you were sick the other day. I hope you're feeling better," she said with sympathetic eyebrows.
"Uh, a little bit, thanks."
"I love water."
"That's good."
"I actually...