by Kari Nguyen
Breaking Curfew
Softly she ascends the darkened stairwell, avoiding the moon, her boots leaking stardust and wine. She places her jewels on the bedside table, breathes goodnight.
View from a Bedroom Window
He hears her steps in the hallway, then the open and close of the front door. He goes to the bedroom window and peers between the crack in the curtains. She's stepping out, down the stairs, into street night. A night for another, not him. He clutches his bear, alone.
Summer as Seven
Not knowing it would become the simplest, happiest memory of her life, Rebecca ran the length of the sunny dock and jumped off the end, bracing for deep, cool water.
Duty of an Only Child
She found the photograph while cleaning out her mother's attic. They were carefully arranged: her father, mother, a child. It was dated 1943 - six years before she'd been born.
Long Distance
They send a puzzle, unable to make the trip back east. “Money's tight,” his son says. “Maybe next year.”
Harold sits at the table, studying the cover of the overturned box: a picture of Mark, Sheila, the kids. He rises, shuffling his feet through the pieces, trying not to fall.
17
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Breaking Curfew published at Nailpolish Stories, September 2011
http://nailpolishstories.wordpress.com/2011/11/06/kierstin-bridger-kari-nguyen-joanna-delooze-maryanne-kolton-gill-hoffs-john-c-mannone-92611/
View from a Bedroom Window and Long Distance published in Boston Literary Magazine, Winter 2010-2011
http://www.bostonliterarymagazine.com/winter11index.html
Summer as Seven and Duty of an Only Child published in Blink-Ink #6, April 2011
http://www.blink-ink.com/
Thank you to editors Robin Stratton, Doug Mathewson, and Nicole Monaghan
This story has no tags.
Exquisite, each one in its way. Packed with insinuation, possibility like mustard seeds.
fave
The rhythm sings. FAVE
Great pieces, little gems. Especially like the first with its stardust and wine leaking from her boots.*
Stellar. Love both form & the tidbits. Fav line: "He clutches his bear, alone." *
The rhythm, as Christopher points out, is perfect here. I love this form and this voice. I love how the last sentence of some of these is like a tiny bomb going off. I feel like there's a novel in the white space. What's interesting to me is that though these were published separately, my mind makes all these connections, forms a running narrative. Great work, Kari.
Congrats on all the pubs!
Liked "Duty of an Only Child" best. A prose haiku!
Like Kathy, I found a story here. These are so beautifully defined.*
Yes, Kari, yes!
Individually and collectively, these work so well, such beautiful touches, float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. *
Kathy said exactly what I was thinking about the connections. I felt like I was thumbing through someone's photo album while reading. Separate snapshots one life.*
What Jane and Kathy said..
Lovely*
Moving pieces. I, too, particularly love "Duty of an Only Child." *
I like the vertiginous nostalgia in Summer as Seven, all the moments between falling short.
Thanks so much, all! I truly appreciate it.
Yes, what Kathy said, and I will add that the titles are ideal, in each case, there is a building and so much space at the same time, they move in together like a patchwork quilt
Beautiful word choice and phrasings lift this piece to some rarified longing.
Meg and David, thank you both!
"Summer as Seven
Not knowing it would become the simplest, happiest memory of her life, "
this is so very beautiful *
Thanks, Bobbi!
I especially loved View from Bedroom Window though they were all wonderful. fave*
Each a delicate, wondrous morsel. Together a mini feast of moments,sensations and words. fave.*
Gloria and Emily - thank you!