by Kathy Fish
Afternoons, the girls play in the hollow. The heat buckles their energy and sweat drips into their eyes. Their mother works hard, but the girls are unkempt and secretive, given to a layered, sarcastic wit.
Their mother bakes olive bread and cinnamon rolls. She is never cross, but occasionally she has quiet days where she doesn't speak to the girls. It is as if her head is wrapped in gauze with two holes for her eyes.
The school is two miles away and the girls walk. In this day and age! It is a matter of pride for the mother that the girls walk to school, rain or shine. "We can do anything," she tells them. "There is nothing we can't do!"
They live on the edge of town. There is a cornfield behind their house. When the wind blows, it is like the hands of many children clapping.
Their mother wears a device over her ear. It is a telephone. She walks around in public places, talking and gesturing, sometimes swearing. The girls are frightened because their mother looks like a crazy person. She will look at them and say, "What? What are you staring at?"
The woman at True Value Hardware has pigtails and a hunched, contemplative posture. She asks, "What is the nature of your problem?"
The girls spin and jump. The nature of their problem! They want to take the woman in the blue apron behind the doors with the sign that says "Authorized Personnel Only" and tell her everything. That their mother sits in the garage when she gets home and leaves the car running and she cranks 101.7 The Rock and closes the garage door. The girls are young, but they are not stupid. They run down the stairs and push the garage door opener. Their mother reclines in the driver's seat. She sings along with her eyes closed. She doesn't hear the garage door open. When the song is over, she opens her eyes and is annoyed. "Why are you up? Get back to bed." But then she comes in and lets them pull off her shoes, she lets them put rainbow clips in her hair. She lets them watch Unsolved Mysteries until she falls asleep on the couch.
But their mother answers the woman, "My door has come off its hinges," and she shows her the broken hinge, the stripped screws.
The mother has started a home business, selling her goods to local grocery stores. She puts on black polyester pants, kitten heels and a tailored blouse. She has frosted her hair. The girls do not like the way her bottom looks in the pants, like the thorax of an ant. They don't like her striped hair.
She talks to suppliers on the phone. She needs plastic bags and paper trays for the cinnamon rolls. She needs only plastic bags for the olive bread. Both require labels. The mother has designed the labels herself, working late at night on her computer. She calls her products "Goodness Gracious," which the girls think is dumb. Behind her back, they say, "Goodness gracious, this is awful!" and "Goodness gracious, I'm going to puke!"
The labels feature a smiling sun. The girls think they could draw a better one, but the mother says they don't appreciate her primitive style. The mother thinks this is hilarious. They do not want the olive bread or the cinnamon rolls. They ask for Kraft macaroni and cheese. They want Kids' Cuisine.
Their father has a new apartment he has furnished lavishly with Norwegian style furniture. The girls think it looks like a doctor's office with the magazines fanned out on the coffee table. The rooms smell like toothpaste.
He takes them to the place he used to work. He paces around outside the building. They struggle to keep up. There are windows, but they can't see inside. He turns and says, "Does anybody have to wee?"
He rushes them through the revolving door. The security guard puts up his hand. "You've been told," he says. He's a giant, taller and wider than their father.
"Hey, man, my daughters have to pee." The security guard looks at the girls and shakes his head. "Sorry kids," he says. Their father sits outside on a cement bench, smoking, while the girls chase each other around the topiary.
He drops them home and there's soup in the crock pot, bubbling over. The floor is slick with flour. The girls sweep and wipe and eat from bowls on the back porch. They catapult navy beans into the grass. "Fine dining, fine dining!" they cry.
Later, they are woken by laughter. The girls tumble from their beds and look out the window. It is their mother, beyond the hollow on the edge of the cornfield in the blue night, her arms wild, waving down the moon.
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This story was originally published in The Denver Quarterly and reprinted in "A Peculiar Feeling of Restlessness: Four Chapbooks of Short Short Fiction by Four Women" (Rose Metal Press)
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One of my all-time favorites of yours, Kathy.
It's a pleasure to read this again, to enjoy the imagery and the language like it's my first time.
Thanks, Myf and Pia. And Pia you're right, it's good wine, this site.
what a great story! will be back to read it again.....
Wow, Kathy. I don't think I've read this before. It's gorgeous. First story I've read on this site. Glad I'm here to read it.
Thank you Scott and Gail!
Such a beautiful line: "It is as if her head is wrapped in gauze with two holes for her eyes."
I love, too, that the girls want Kraft macaroni and cheese.
Thank you Marcy!
I remember this one. One of my faves of yours, Kath! Great to read it again.
Excellent work, Kathy. I loved it.
Why do you have to have the best story on this site so far? Damn.
Ok...
Some of its your name. I can see that. (You don't get a "name" without kicking a little donkey ass).
But let's get to the story...
what can be improved?
Since you're going 3rd omniscient, how about throwing the father a bone. Dig in a bit there...
The rest is gold.
If I ever meet u, Dark Horizon on me. If you don't drink beer, that's cool, but maybe we should never meet.
Sean
Cause I adore beer.
S
Thanks so much Kim, Chad and Sean!
Damn.
No, really.
Damn. Not: In the afternoon. Not: On certain afternoons. Not: On many an afternoon.
Just: Afternoons, etc.
And the exclamation point here:
"The nature of their problem!"
!
Yeah, this is a good one.
Thanks, Matthew!
What a great story. I love these girls and their Kids' Cuisine.
Thank you Lydia.
I never get tired of reading this one. It's gorgeous.
Oh, you're kind! Thank you Claudia...
This is a fine, fine story. Every sentence a surprise...
Thanks so much, Katrina.
deserves to be #1! that last sentences slays me.
xxx
deserves to be #1! that last sentences slays me.
xxx
Oh thank you, Maryanne!
This is a beautiful story. So many great lines, but here are just a few:
"There is a cornfield behind their house. When the wind blows, it is like the hands of many children clapping."
and:
"The girls do not like the way her bottom looks in the pants, like the thorax of an ant."
and:
"They do not want the olive bread or the cinnamon rolls. They ask for Kraft macaroni and cheese. They want Kids’ Cuisine."
Excellent stuff.
Thanks, Chelsey!
I love the sense of the girls' conspiracy, the way their parents are things that happen to them, like weather.
Thanks, Amy, that's a great way of putting it...
Thank you for posting this delightful story. I read gripped from the first, but that last line did me in--in the best possible way. I can see that mother, "waving down the moon." I can see her children watching her. Takes my breath away.
thanks so much, Ethel!
Kathy, this is wonderful stuff. Very inspiring on a day I'm not feeling much inspiration.
Thanks for reading this one, David!
I love the voice here, the wonder of the kids' world. I also love Unsolved Mysteries and remember seeing it as a kid and getting shiver-y scared. This was really enjoyable. I think it's hard to write about kids, or from a child's point of view, without seeming cutesy or condescending, but you do it really well here.
The immediacy of the separate worlds of girls, mom and dad is believable. The corn fields clapping evokes a hollowness that is chilling and so right for this story. Thanks for your story.
This story slips in and out of time so seamlessly. Love how it feels like we are in one century and then a different, more contemporary age.
Great story. I loved the dad's apartment and it's smell of "toothpaste."
The struggle of all the characters was so vivid.
I particularly enjoyed the scene at the father's former place of work.
Great job!
Thanks so much for the kind comments Tara, Sandra, Jamey and Thomas. I really appreciate it.
Kathy
So much sensory, like a warm bath. Thanks for this...
S
Hi, Kathy. It was Tara up above (and Art) who suggested I read your work. Quite nice, this piece. Like the commentator above, I like the sensory detail. I also like the pacing here. As Tara says, it's hard to capture a child's voice--particularly when it's surrounded, as it is, by the adult. But this does a really nice job, I think. And the ending, waving down the moon, adds to the mystery.
Thank you, very much, KE. And nice to meet you. I am very fond of Tara and Art.
Kathy,
I love how you use the phrase "The mother".
I also love the description of how the girls don't like how her bottom looks in the pants suit "like the thorax of an ant".
Again the smells strike me-your dad's apartment smells like toothpaste. Great story.
Thanks so much, Dwight!
I've heard a lot re Kathy Fish and maybe a year ago I read something, but I'm not good in the memory department. Or maybe I didn't read anything yet. I know that "Kathy Fish" conjures up "good" "vivid" "knows what she's doing" "kicks donkey ass"...
However, I've read this now at 3+in the AM and I'm thinking, whoa, powerful stuff. great images. I love the father, the economy of that bit and the clarity.
And I'm thinking aspiration to be fearless on my park. Write more. Dig deeper. Get the f out of my own way. Then maybe some cornfield will clap for me too.
Gay, what a nice thing to say. I really appreciate it. I'm glad you feel inspired. If it makes you feel any better, know that I am also "in my own way" about 80 percent of the time. Maybe 90. Anyway, thanks so much for reading this!
A clapping cornfield is probably the most unique and interesting image I've seen in a while now. I can close my eyes and see it, hear it, just so.
thanks for the kind words, Ben!
really lovely Kath!!
I love getting these notes in my email...thanks Tiffer!
I really loved this story - such great imagery and vivid detail throughout every line!
Thank you, Kevin!
"It is a matter of pride for the mother that the girls walk to school, rain or shine. "We can do anything," she tells them. "There is nothing we can't do!" "
I love that. I love your '!'s. You are a masterful with those exclamation marks.
The best is the car scene, how the girls open the garage doors, then try to cheer up their mom. So sad and revealing.
The writing and description in this is flawless.
This one is superb
Thanks so much, Debbie!
"The girls spin and jump. The nature of their problem! They want to take the woman in the blue apron behind the doors with the sign that says "Authorized Personnel Only" and tell her everything. That their mother sits in the garage when she gets home and leaves the car running and she cranks 101.7 The Rock and closes the garage door." -- The directness and immediacy of the language here is a gift. I think that’s what I find so appealing about most all your works that I’ve read. The reader is able to connect with the story. I think it's your use of language. I don’t think that’s something that can be learned or taught. As a writer, you either have it or you don’t. You do. Great story.
Oh man, Sam, you have made my morning with these kind words. Thank you.
stunning.
When the wind blows, it is like the hands of many children clapping.
but really, who can choose just one?
This story captures the essence of why I love to read and write. It is the first writing of yours I’ve read and I can’t wait to read more very soon. I just love this, every word of it.
Thank you very much, Kari!
I wish I could favorite this one again. One of my very favorites!
and thank you again! You're making me feel very good this morning, Kari!
What a good story: so much in so few words. So much of it between the lines.
Ginnah, you are kind. Thank you very much for reading this story.
Hi Kathy, I loved this. It so delineates the kids' world form the adult's world.
Hi Kathy, I loved this. It so delineates the kids' world form the adult's world.
Phoebe, thank you so much for finding this story and for the kind words for it!
Goodness gracious this is great Kathy! Packed with surprises and haunting imagery, it is one of my all-time favourite stories on Fnaut.
Wow, thank you Mr. Rasky! That makes me feel very good. I'm glad you like the story!
Dear God, Kathy. This is utterly amazing. Truly a magnificent story.
*
James! Thank you so much! You have made my day.
Like that "waving down the moon."
Sad at the foundation.
Lots of clever revelations. Requires a careful reading - luckily this is not difficult.
Thank you, Larry!
This is really an amazing story. So finely done. I'm glad I found it.
Hi Kathy, wow, thanks for this. I appreciate your finding this one, reading and commenting, very much.
I love that closing para. It feels very witchy. Really wonderful writing, Kathy. *
Roberta, thank you! Love "feels very witchy"...
This is amazing. Unreal. So good.
thank you, kindly Matthew!
Just beautiful. The freshness of an unjaded look at this very interesting world one has to make sense of, and the innocence of authenticity. "They don't like her striped hair." *
Beate, thank you so much for the lovely comments on this story.
bloody hell. how come i've only read this now? it's brilliant. shines on every level.
Well, gee, this makes my day, James. Thanks so much for the warm praise.