Big week for little stories
This week I shared a whole bunch of stories by Dawn Tasaka Steffler. If you missed that you should definitely check out her work. She’s working on a novel in flash that I can’t wait to read.
The stories below don’t have a unifying theme, some are long, some are short. THe only thing they all have in common is that they resonated strongly with me (some immediately, with one that took its time). This might be the first time I’ve shared a poem here too.
Nonfiction from Ramesh Gupta and Michelle Gurule, and fiction from Sarah Turner, Amy Anam Cara, G. A. Rivers, Kelli Short Borges, Kelly Pedro and blog fave Jennifer Hudak.
Want to submit a story? Please do!
Nonfiction
Mummy Bunny by Ramesh Gupta
I read this story thinking it was incredibly well-executed fiction, then realized I was wrong. Gupta’s story of being left to the state by his mother is stunning, devastating stuff:
When I was taken into care by Social Services, I considered it a betrayal of the most sacred trust. As far as I was concerned, my mother should have fought to keep me. But she didn’t and so I had none.
My Uncle Doesn’t Need to Die in Prison to Learn His Lesson by Michelle Gurule
This story of Michelle Gurule’s uncle is full of heartbreaking twists. His life was basically over before it began, and she documents her efforts to get him a taste of freedom before he dies.
Broke as shit, and feeling as though he had nothing worth losing, Ricky waved his gun at two girls behind the counter, demanding they empty the cash register into his bag. He left without firing the gun and the money he walked away with was declared petty, but still, it was armed robbery. Ricky was sentenced to 52 years in prison.
Fiction
Hide and Seek by Sarah Turner
Sarah Turner’s revenge story about a mother whose son comes gets beat up at a nightclub is a trip. The mother’s rage builds slowly throughout the story, and the ending is shocking.
She didn’t have a plan. It just felt better to be moving, and Luke had seemed so exhausted, she thought he’d sleep into the afternoon. She left the car in a side street and walked towards the nightclub. She was exhausted, and jittery with it, and anger was pulsing through her steadily in waves, filling her with an unsteady energy, which pushed her to walk even faster. What she was doing was pointless. She kept telling herself to go home, but she had an overwhelming need to keep going.
Girl Thug by Amy Anam Cara
All the boys are scared of her.
This is super short, listed as poetry. Describe it how you will, Amy Anam Cara’s short but devious piece is a fantastic of writing. Go read it for more, it’s less than a minute but you’ll think about it all day.
Song of the Confessor by G. A. Rivers
When I first finished this story I didn’t really feel it. But it nagged at me, and I re-read it a couple days later. The gradual reveal of the narrator’s circumstances — a musician and his former manager discussing something about the musician’s ex-girlfriend — is executed perfectly and hauntingly.
I know you wouldn’t want me to be doing what I’m doing right now, sitting in a deserted dive bar in Hell’s Kitchen, having a beer with my former manager. Emphasis on the word former is what you’d say to me with a tug on my sleeve and a show of eyes, the first salvo in your soft-spoken plea to stay away from Ben, to let it go once and for all.
Other World by Kelli Short Borges
I thought I knew where this story was going — to a place of comfort, thinking that somewhere there’s a universe where things worked out differently. Borges has other plans, and the end of this story was a doozy.
Mr. Smyth teaches eleventh-grade physics, and this week they’re learning about the Many-Worlds Theory. They’re discussing the multiverse, the idea that every choice a person could make leads to another version of the universe, another version of themselves.
Pareidolia by Kelly Pedro
There’s a sense of loss that builds as this story goes on, and it ends on a note of beautiful heartbreak. It’s a story about a woman and her mother processing the death of the woman’s father. Pedro’s story feels so fragile and delicate, it’s no surprise it won an award
My mother sees my father’s face everywhere. Last week it was in our neighbour’s wilting asters. Then, an angry version in a banana she decided to save.
“Maybe it’ll brown into the Virgin Mary, and we can sell it on eBay like that ten-year-old cheese sandwich,” I said.
A week later it was still on the counter, a swarm of fruit flies clouding the kitchen. I mixed apple cider and dish soap into a jar, stretched plastic wrap over top and poked holes to make a trap. A few hours later, Mom called me into the kitchen.
“Do you see it?”
A Word for What We Have by Jennifer Hudak
Ani is seeing spiders and other creepy things on her bedroom ceiling just as she’s falling asleep every night. This story starts off like a horror or first-contact story, but there’s so much more to it than that.
The spiders always come just before I fall asleep. Not every night, but often enough, they erupt plague-like from the far corner of the bedroom ceiling, dangling overhead from invisible threads or dropping onto Carissa’s pillow. When I jerk away from the touch of their skittering legs, they disappear. The black and brown of their heavy bodies dissolve into shadow.
