VERY, VERY SHORT STORIES

SPIDER BITE

They were clearly growing much too quickly. No time anymore to move about unencumbered. There was one for every day of the week. So, on an evening drizzled with rain, a mother set out for the busiest part of the city, sure her mission would go unnoticed in the indifferent crowd. She swore she would unload, one at a time or all at once, at the first offer. Four of the quintet of boys thrilled at the man in the blue and red shiny suit. One remained skeptical. Of the two girls, one appeared aloof while the other scanned the crowd like a miniature radar tower.

Suddenly the brown-eyed girl with the searching eyes pointed directly at me, her expression one of unflappable determination. I met her mother’s gaze and saw my life change in a nitroglycerine moment.

BEDTIME STORY
“There is nothing to be frightened of,” he whispered. “All of the monsters are gone.” The girl slumped under Hello Kitty sheets. A pinkish glow bounced off hundreds of Hello Kitties stamped on the wallpaper in her pink and white room. He set her Hello Kitty Alarm Clock Radio and adjusted the night lite. He turned off the Hello Kitty musical lamp. He brushed away a tear, like a jewel awash on her wet cheek. Her eyelashes trembled with disbelief. Suffering, he drew her to him. “Darling girl, it’s gone forever. It can’t hurt you now. Do not be afraid.”

“Bring it back,” she whimpered. “Bring him back.”

TIMELINE

They wanted to defriend her, every one of them. Never mind that she told another story. Or that one of them was lying. They were loyal. She had to go. So, they withheld their likes. And waited, and waited, and waited.

REFLECTION

He crushes wild iris underfoot. More will grow back next spring. The lush undergrowth is getting to him. The vast, unkempt property is littered with mirrors; every size, shape and stage of distress. The bluebells are just the beginning. Soon he will see marsh marigolds and lupine. Wild columbine, he is sure, will take hold again. Bergamot and goldenrod will root like murder among the cracked mirrors. Black-eyed Susan. How could he?

I CANNOT WALK ALONE

For my Leicester Friend

I cannot walk alone
many ghosts have harbored me
pushed the storm
far from me
too many left me safe at sea
and swept it like mere detritus
kept it clean
kept it fighting
in my corner not the norm
danced like boxers
still unformed
find your path

my Leicester friend
I cannot walk without that horn
there’s a dancing crowd to join
at the other unknown end
some write books,
make amends
some more brilliant no less than
the music that transcends
mothers, true, of truer friends
forever big band
I hold his hand
because of you
because I can
not walk alone
it’s true
would I change my course
would you?

VERY, VERY SHORT STORIES

SPIDER BITE

They were clearly growing much too quickly. No time anymore to move about unencumbered. There was one for every day of the week. So, on an evening drizzled with rain, a mother set out for the busiest part of the city, sure her mission would go unnoticed in the indifferent crowd. She swore she would unload, one at a time or all at once, at the first offer. Four of the quintet of boys thrilled at the man in the blue and red shiny suit. One remained skeptical. Of the two girls, one appeared aloof while the other scanned the crowd like a miniature radar tower.

Suddenly the brown-eyed girl with the searching eyes pointed directly at me, her expression one of unflappable determination. I met her mother’s gaze and saw my life change in a nitroglycerine moment.

BEDTIME STORY
“There is nothing to be frightened of,” he whispered. “All of the monsters are gone.” The girl slumped under Hello Kitty sheets. A pinkish glow bounced off hundreds of Hello Kitties stamped on the wallpaper in her pink and white room. He set her Hello Kitty Alarm Clock Radio and adjusted the night lite. He turned off the Hello Kitty musical lamp. He brushed away a tear, like a jewel awash on her wet cheek. Her eyelashes trembled with disbelief. Suffering, he drew her to him. “Darling girl, it’s gone forever. It can’t hurt you now. Do not be afraid.”

“Bring it back,” she whimpered. “Bring him back.”

TIMELINE

They wanted to defriend her, every one of them. Never mind that she told another story. Or that one of them was lying. They were loyal. She had to go. So, they withheld their likes. And waited, and waited, and waited.

REFLECTION

He crushes wild iris underfoot. More will grow back next spring. The lush undergrowth is getting to him. The vast, unkempt property is littered with mirrors; every size, shape and stage of distress. The bluebells are just the beginning. Soon he will see marsh marigolds and lupine. Wild columbine, he is sure, will take hold again. Bergamot and goldenrod will root like murder among the cracked mirrors. Black-eyed Susan. How could he?

Behind the Scenes:

A BIRDHOUSE IN BROOKLYN

Jason hurled himself into his delivery. “You’re damn right! Jeez, all those toy niggas? What, the thing now is throwies, so we go out bombing with throwies? That shit is played out. Fuck that!”

The boys’ murmured agreement rose up around Jason—a clandestine ceremonial chant.

“Throwies ain’t bombing!

“Throwies ain’t shit!”

Jason gestured to the open pages of his Black Book like a missionary possessed. His bible. He flipped from the outline across a spread of pages to the hookups his crew would follow religiously.

“That's the stuff we put up on a wall. We ain't gonna be bitin' anyone's shit. Let's lead! Fucking wiggers. What? They think they the shit because they tag, na'mean?”