Let’s read some Abbie Barker stories
Funny thing happened this week. I was reading a bunch of bookmarked stories, and unexpectedly loved three stories in a row. Wasn’t until now that I noticed they’re all by Abbie Barker. Turns out I’m a pretty big fan!
So yes, three by Abbie Barker this week, and three more short stories from Mike McHone, Jennifer Lesh Fleck, and Hannah Greer.
Want to submit a story? Please do!
Fiction by Abbie Barker
Seasons of a Disappearance by Abbie Barker
A child goes missing, and a family starts to spiral into depressed desperation. The missing girl’s sister narrates the story, cataloguing the increasingly upsetting circumstances caused by not knowing the truth. The way Barker calls back to the opening paragraphs in the closing ones is striking.
The summer my sister disappeared, our lawn shriveled during a rainless July. Dad shut off the sprinkler because we were strapped for cash. We sold our home on the far side of a brittle cornfield and moved into a four-story apartment complex, my sister’s belongings stacked into a basement storage unit, barricaded behind chain link. My new room was a blank box, echoing with an emptiness that disrupted my sleep.
Couch Phase by Abbie Barker
The narrator of this story suffers from depression and can’t seem to get off the couch for any length of time. Barker writes her protagonist with such charisma, despite her distressing, spiralling behaviour.
Seth isn’t aware of my couch consumption. I only couch while he’s at work, and again when we couch together after Layla’s in bed. When I’m couching alone, I choose shows he won’t watch—basically a bunch of reality TV mixed with intermittent episodes of Gilmore Girls.
Snow Legs by Abbie Barker
One morning a pair of legs perfectly sculpted out of snow, turns up in the yard in front of a young couple’s house. There’s a Twilight Zone quality about this story that drew me in extremely quickly:
The legs appeared on the sidewalk after a heavy November snow. Sean and I stood at the edge of our yard, inspecting the two limbs jutting out of the ground, feet aimed at the sky. He noted the sturdiness of the quads. I observed the careful sculpting of the toes.
“They look real,” I said.
More Fiction
Call Me Mr. Black by Mike McHone
Mr. Black is a hitman, and his newest client causes him some real concern. A kid wants to take a hit out on his parents. Black’s slow reveal of his own history is gripping.
“Mister Black?”
He heard the pitter-patter behind him. A hand tugged at his sleeve. “Hey, I need ya to do what I asked,” the kid said. “I need ya to kill my mom and dad.”
“Get away from me,” the man demanded and swatted the kid’s hand.
“Cmon, please.”
Vestigial by Jennifer Lesh Fleck
By the time I realized how horrifying this story is, I was hooked. Heed the content warnings, but it’s a hell of a read if you can stomach it:
Such messes my spouse left behind. Our finances in tricky tangles. Closets, drawers, cupboards sloppily stripped. All the good LPs: gone. Evan took what he wanted, as always. Then he swayed all our old friendships and loyalties to his side. For I was just Jane—“batshit crazy,” “would-be witch”—who “cuts herself for attention”. And he was the charismatic tenured professor—beloved, revered, perennially innocent. Believed
The Human Lifecycle by Hannah Greer
Greer’s narrator is a robot trying to get a child to safety in some dystopian future. It’s a sad but beautiful story:
“You okay?” Allie kneels beside me.
“Of course.” At barely thirteen years old, she’s too young to burden with my worries. She doesn’t need to know that if I don’t reach a charging station soon, my battery will die and she’ll be alone.
