Tag: fiction

aSoSS 13 | Redundancy

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What’s a spikeball?

It’s where you take the ball and you spike it, dear.

Scheels, 2:30PM, 1/6/2024

humans are attracted to circles. they are soft, rounded, happy. an evolutionary tactic, or implicit bias? you think it is the former, that round things are less likely to bite, that pointy things hurt. i tell you that bullets used to be round as well. perfect spheres, lodged into tree trunks and muscle mass and the soft dirt that buries it like a seed. one day it will grow into a beautiful tree, with orange-veined bark and branches that wrap arguments in cloth. they have a name for that today: weeping willow.

Donate it, it’s thirty-one cents. I don’t need thirty-one cents, I already have a lot of cents.

Chipotle, 2:00PM, 1/14/2024

when we dream, we do it by replacing sight with touch. eyes closed, mouth open, arms out…we have replaced shooting stars with coins and candles: a tangible dream, a manifestation we can hold. the flame, the spin of the metal, a drop of water in the rain. in the future there will be fables written about fountains: a thief robs the trevi, heart of rome, and must fulfill the desires each coin represents. thirty-one wishes? one for each day of the month. pennies on the dollar — the sun will shine once more.

Why do you ask odd questions?

Why do you give odd answers?

That’s an odd question!

The Shelter, 7:00PM, 1/28/2024

the politician, modern-day sphinx, speaks in riddles. the figure in the frame has glowing white teeth, slightly yellowed. perhaps it is from the elements or the urine of the minority, or perhaps it is intentional — picture the candidates among the common people, hardworking farmers, suntans and crooked teeth from where the wheat slips though the cracks. i imagine the paws of the sphinx cupping a palm of water, a vision of truth broken in ripples. slipping through the cracks, indeed.

aSoSS 12 | Schedule

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She texts me and she goes, “hey, are you busy March 22nd?” I’m like bro, how would I know??

Kroger, 6:00PM, 12/14/2023

the missed-step feeling lingers. you grip a warm mug, waiting. watching. stir in two packets of sugar, or sweetener, or guilt. barista turns into bartender. time does not pass, or does it pass too quickly? on certain days we sit back and compare our inadequacies, our sterile speeches. save the date! what really needs to be saved? the guilt dissolves with the heat of the coffee.

I switched next weekend, my daughter has a volleyball tournament that I want to go watch, so…

Scheels, 2:00PM, 1/6/2024

in a storm, only the sturdiest trees survive. they tower over the clouds and watch as their neighbors are ripped to the ground. anchors of the forest, lighthouses in the water. blinking, bending, never breaking. one of them waves a branch. screams i love you. the storm pauses, tilting her head. she giggles. her smile — the sun — pulls the clouds apart. these are the kind of trees they make national parks for.

Did you help around the house over the weekend?

Oh, no.

Wow! You actually relaxed?

Bursley Dining Hall, 11:30AM, 1/22/2024

the light in the window deforms as it shatters against the beam of dust. back when broken rules tasted like blood under the tongue — we were happier back then. the dishes pile against the porcelain sink. one day they will return to their homes; the cup recounts its better days to the silverware, like a scarred veteran clinging to life after a war. if dust could talk, would it scream?

The Kingdom of Tokavsk, Session 27: A Note from the Editors

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There is an extensive gap in our knowledge and the information we were able to gather at this point. However, using context cluse, we pieced together a rough timeline of what happened over the course of the second month of the investigation.


1. A man by the name of Boris Zhaven confessed to providing false information. His reason for doing so is unknown.

2. Lord Eskyil is removed from his position as advisor to the King. However, he remains on castle grounds in isolation.

3. A battle on the border of Tokavsk and Arkia results in heavy Tokavskan losses.

4. A small fire destroys part of the records pertaining to the investigation. The fire is put out quickly and no one is injured.

The final event is the most important, as it hampered both the investigation and our work. However, we believe we have sufficiently accounted for that gap through independent research as part of the agreement we have with Tokavsk and Your Majesty. The next few parts contain information we acquired directly with the help of an interpreter, and while we acknowledge that the verity of what we were told is uncertain, the conclusion reached at the end of our time in Tokavsk supports the facts we were given. Additionally, we dealt with the individual who attempted to interfere with our work and adjusted our report accordingly. We have drafted a shorter report on that matter than need not be mentioned here again.

aSoSS 11 | Impostor

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Do you think work will say anything?

I don’t think so, I work at Banner Health but I’m in the office, I don’t deal with the patients face-to-face. I imagine they are more relaxed with their policy.

Yeah, if you’re representing a medical firm I’d assume they want you to be more, like, neutral, to cater for the diversity.

Fantastic Sam’s, 1:00PM, 12/12/2023

if diversity asked you to the party, would you have the courage to dance? verna myers would believe. she would seize the moment — you only live once, she might say. and maybe that’s the problem: we split into a fractal, a kaleidoscope of memory, illuminated by the neurons of the strangers we pass everyday. bright, blinking, gone. the moonlight catches the hairs on your cheek. i reach up to brush them away. upon closer examination, it is a scar.

life is short. wear it like a pixie cut, like a quiff, like a bob.

I have this really weird twinge about Instagram about being perfect. Like, on TikTok I don’t care, I’ll post about being silly or something but on Instagram –

Tiktok feels super casual.

– Exactly. I could have no makeup and be talking and I wouldn’t care, but if I did that on Instagram, uh oh, there’s like a mental block for me with the aesthetic, and appearing on other people’s feed, you know?

Denver International Airport, 12:00PM, 1/8/2024

consider a future modern art exhibition. large indium screens are plastered across six-by-eight feet windows. it is a prison, a jail cell, a red-blood among a sea of great-whites. my sense of smell strikes like a lightning bolt. the cloud erupts, quivers, begins to cry. why are you imprisoned? the door is open. all you have to do is fall. pull the plug. short pleasure, long repentance.

Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in a hotel with a thousand other people that I don’t know.

Yeah, especially like the numbers on the door?

Mosher-Jordan Dining Hall, 6:30PM, 1/11/2024

stop me if you’ve heard this one before: an infinite number of guests walk into a hotel… where do they go? up the stairs, through the halls, n-plus-one steps more. the days blend together. who am i? you look to your right and i stare back at you. we are one and the same. i reach out at the same time as you, like a mirror, except our fingers touch. the shadow of the mind sends reality staggering. the doors slam shut. outside, the sun sets once more. spend another day with me?

Frivolous Fairy Tales for Modern People: Window Wiper Fairy

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The Window Wiper Fairy doesn’t wipe windows because of fairy altruism. She wipes them because she is stuck to them. And how she got to be there nobody knows. It just so happened that one day the building’s windows were bare all except for dirt, and the next, they were bare all except for a pink-haired fairy. 

People who see the fairy have stopped paying her mind. Perhaps, for a few seconds, they’ll stare as she flaps her glittery butterfly wings and beats them against the glass. Then, they’ll revel in the sight of a window so clean and shiny it reflects like a mirror. But in the end, they simply turn their heads and forget that she’s there. 

Even those within the office on which’s window the fairy hangs from, have moved on from the novelty of her presence. She’s simply one spot where sunlight doesn’t enter. She’s as mundane as a hunted deer head perched above a hearth. 

However, there is one who is rattled by the fairy’s presence.

Every morning, Jodie comes to work with a stronger coffee than the day before hoping she’ll wake up from her strange dream. She sits at her desk and sighs disappointedly because it’s still dark. She glances hesitantly to her right— and low and behold, the pink-haired, glitter-winged fairy remains. 

She tries to ignore the fairy’s presence because everyone else does. And she’s too new to the workplace to ask for another desk. No, every day, Jodie spends the rest of her time in silence, thoughts always fluttering back to the fairy on the window.

It’s even worse for Jodie when the fairy begins her daily routine of batting wings to wipe windows clean. Jodie feels as if she’s sitting next to a prepubescent tornado. 

One day, Jodie finally musters up the courage to talk to the fairy. She knocks on the glass over the small of the fairy’s back and the crease between her wings. 

Thump. Wings hit the window, Jodie almost jolted back.

“Um, hello Fairy.”

Thump. Thump.

“Do you need to get down from there?”

Thump.

“Uh, beat once for yes and twice for no.”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Well, what is she supposed to do with that?

“Just once or twice, please.”

Again, the fairy flaps three times.

“What does thrice mean? Do you not understand what I’m saying?”

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

Jodie grows frustrated. She bangs her fist hard against the glass where she’d knocked before. The fairy retaliates with four flaps this time, each more forceful than the last. And Jodie hits back.

The two continue with their sharing of blows until Jodie takes a break as her skin turns cherry red. She takes a step back to look for the cool steel of her water bottle, hoping that will soothe her aching fist. But the moment she turns away from the fairy, it slams its wings so hard the window shatters and blows into the office. And Jodie falls to the floor from the force of it all. 

“Jodie.”

Jodie lifts her head to the furious visage of her boss.

“You’re fired.”

“But, it was the fairy—”

When Jodie points back to the now disintegrated window there no longer is the Window Wiper Fairy. Just the open blue sky flooding her desk with brightness once again. 

END

aSoSS 10 | Recover

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You waiting for the bus?

Oh yeah. Where else would I spend my time?

Couzens Hall, 9:00AM, 1/11/2024

procrastination — otherwise known as the human condition — extends to the nature of the weather. leave it to the start of a semester for the heavens to open. salt crystals cling to boots like cooked rice grains. a child scatters frozen nuts in hopes that they will bloom in the spring. she forgets the squirrels are on break, too. some of them will not survive the winter. you tiptoe and your feet crunch into dust, blue snow into black ash.

No school Monday?

Yeah, they just got off break and now they’re going back on break. Mucho break.

Hibachi-San, 12:00PM, 1/12/2024

the clock is stuck in a traffic jam, inching forward slowly, steadily. it will go forty-five in the fast lane and trap you behind a veil, if you’re not careful. check your rearview and suddenly it disappears. when we are not aware, we become uncomfortable, swollen, like a rat that has eaten insulation. i follow your gaze ahead, to the monotony, the beauty of the crowd. one must live in the moment. to be half of two things is to be whole of none.

Do you want to go to the Victors parade? The football team will be there!

Will there be candy?

I don’t think so—

Then no.

Ann Arbor Coffee Roasting Company, 3:00PM, 1/13/2024

there are moments where the world rotates one-dimensionally. time and space funnel into a line. the parade swings past, and you are no longer next to me. we are one entity, a collection, a singularity, drawn to the crowd, to the players. any less and i lose you in the crowd and someone catches you as you fall — your eyes lock, a circuit complete, diodes shining. any further and you end up in front of the bus — whether or not it stops in time is trivial. in one dimension, there are no decisions.

luckily, we live in a world with three. left, right, forward. the sun is still out, but bright blue stars sparkle on state street.