Stories tagged childhood

Legs Unwilling

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Summer bakes the metal playground slide to ripples. Still, kids line up. Sadists, all of them. Lucky enough to choose pain. Max feels it every breath, unwanted.

Scooping the Fat of Time

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I lift up my sweatshirt and reach with a full fist into my belly button. This is where the fat comes out.

Shovelling shit.

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“Whatcha doin'?” “Moving this shit.” “Why?” “Well, I can’t leave it here!”

My Brother's Bedroom

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they say the sense of smell is the strongest sense connected to memory, but not for me


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When the arguing started, their voices would get louder and louder, till they broke into my dreams. That night, I woke and listened in the dark for what felt like a very long time. Perhaps I should have been afraid, but I wasn't. For one thing, they never

Pig Girl

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"In the camps we ate whatever garbage they gave us." This according to my mother. "We had no choice." But I had eaten pig with gusto at an anti-Semite's table. Somehow this had to be undone. Burial in soil was all I could imagine.

Birds of Prayer: 1/8 Snowflakes Like the Stars of David

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“Is that what six million looks like?” I wondered. I easily grasped the six part. I'd lived that many years. The Star of David had six points. So did each snow crystal.

Far Star Girl

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She thought maybe an angel had called out her name. She wasn't sure. She was waiting for her older sister to return with Jujy Fruits and bonbons. The theater, neither light nor dark, was to Cassie's ten-year-old mind, an appropriate-enough setting for a v

Birds of Prayer: 2/8 The Chicken Killer From Brooklyn and his Satchel of Death

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His flat hat, a fur-trimmed streimel, lay on his head like a platter of dead minks, the man's Shirley Temple side-locks dangling like pigtails.

Reading at the Table

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I would like to say that story sent me reeling and nauseated from the table but no, I kept shoveling my soup without missing a beat and reading the TIME magazine folded next to my plate.

Nested Story in Fallujah

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He's dead. He's dead, she cried. I still didn't move. I stayed there until dark. I thought it was my fault.

Birds of Prayer: 3/8 The Snow Queen

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Snow was falling heavily, feathery flakes, like the gigantic chickens in my book pulling the little boy Kay behind the Snow Queen's sled, approaching her Palace of Death in the distance.

Birds of Prayer 4. Magda

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She looked like Snow White’s step-mother, especially when primping in front of her three-way Hollywood mirror on her dressing table. My own mother bitterly complained about her.

Birds of Prayer 5. The Lost Ones

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And just as always, as she uttered the syllables, they transformed into sparks charging the air, casting a spell, so that I could not grasp the answers before they evaporated like zeroes.

Birds of Prayer 6. The Slaughter 7. The Blood Sacrifice

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“I knew you’s the snoop fiddling with that butcher knife. Show me the damage.” He knelt to examine my finger. “Cut your finger almost right off, Kitty Kat.”