The Hands are gone this morning and you breathe a sigh of relief—well, not literally, because you’re a sponge, and sponges don’t sigh so much as simply deflate a bit. Your scouring side still aches from last night’s skillet and its stubborn burnt remnants. You wanted to scream at the stupid Hand that this wasn’t […]
Tag: short story
Go Get ‘Em, Slayer
“Listen up, you little snots. In this world, you’re either the top dog, or you’re not. And if you’re not, then you’re breakfast. I didn’t become the number one small forward in the state my junior and senior years for slacking off. These days, you weaklings have no drive. It’s all bullcrap about feelings and […]
The Björn Family and the Human
Once upon a time, there was a little family named the Björns. Mama and Papa Björn loved each other dearly, despite their differences, and they raised Lilla Du, their daughter, to be proud of her own differences as well. They each liked their things in the little wooded home to be just so. Papa Björn […]
Nighttime in the Big Easy
The moon glowed in a liquid sky freckled with clusters of stars; a balmy puff of breeze did little more than rustle skirt hems and bring with it the scent of green. Scattered grit on the cobbled street created a crunch under meandering footsteps, as though the street were munching chips. Every so often the […]
Interlaced
My mother kisses my small, plump fingertips as I bawl over the blistering lesson I’ve just learned about stove-tops. For nearly a week after, my coloring book is erratic with crayon pathways independent of the firm dark rules that shape each drawing; after all, it is difficult to stay within the lines when my dominant […]
Last Dance
At the edge of the known and full-facing the edge of mystery stood Last Dance, Montana. The tumble of cabins and livelihood never had a population that reached into the thousands, except that one time in 1954 when Mrs. Levitt had surprise twins and brought the tally to a cool 1k before the old greengrocer had a heart attack and died […]
Punching Up
“Run free, Goliath,” his Owner said with fake solemnity as she released him to the wriggling ocean of dogs. It was surprising that the dog park’s thin fence wasn’t knocked down by dozens upon dozens of wagging tails and squirming bodies. Goliath’s Owner leaned against one of the only trees in the park as she watched her little French bulldog make […]
A. Rose Prose 