Stories tagged youth

Askew

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Your matted hair a clotted dark galaxy torn from useful teeth stars disappear into the flavorless gray Does it always have to be that way? Do we always have to change? Will you stare if you ever see me again?

Askew (version #2)

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My matted hair a clotted dark galaxy torn from useful teeth stars disappear into the flavorless gray a longing nebula of regret The universe is turning old before you know Does it always have to be that way? a gray universe of stars dying unknown deaths …

Five women: Penelope

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I have at the soul level only ever known five women if you dont count my mother.

Puppy Love

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That was the summer that Christine Nelson owned me. It felt like catching the flu. I had it bad. I was about to turn seven, and it was my first time, and it was bad. A love like that, I don’t know, it’s not a love supreme. It wasn’t completely cru

Defender

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He had what was commonly referred to in junior high as the ‘bullshit mustache’.

Vacation

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Silent, so unbearably silent of voices. The dark sea gave us our only song, a light and flapping drum roll of waves and the crackling break of foam on the sand. Traipsing through forgotten sand sculptures we made our way down the beach, everything black and unseen. It was…

The Fountain

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The man looked at him for a moment, as if he didn’t understand him, “Mr. Wallace, you have a genuine miracle in your bathroom. This isn’t something that just wraps up.”

The Movement of Strings

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He lies in bed for hours every night, thinking, until finally he falls asleep and finds himself sitting on a cracked wooden stool behind the curtain at somebody's club. Fender Strat slung at his waist. He stares ahead, face unmoving, chain-smoking Camels, waiting. Long…

Just Who Does Miller Think He Is?

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This new kid on the block, named Miller, showed up out of the blue one day, while we were throwing rocks and boulders down on this flimsy gray sheet of construction plywood that was covering an open trench in front of a new house on our block. One of the

DING!

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He tapped his foot, swished his hips, swaying across the worn tile floor with an invisible partner in his arms, the batter-coated spoon still clutched in his right hand, momentarily forgotten. Nearly a decade had passed since he last shared a dance with h

White Summer Dress

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Light youth that barely touches the ground

The Kisses of a Satyr

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“I better go. My mom needs me at home,” she says. Soft. Smooth. Firm. Sweet. Maybe I’m pushing too hard. I kiss her on the cheek and she stiffens in response. My heart bleats.

Gazing Skyward... Or, in the dim twilight of youth

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Not so long ago, in a place not too far from here, there lived a big boy with big glasses. His name was Horace (after his great-grandfather on his father’s mother’s side), and he loved to watch the stars.

Y.

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We are the generation who tattoo our stories on our bodies, who pierce what appears impenetrable; we fly our scars like pennants.

Egypt.

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When the sky was thinner and water faster, we would chase the falling stars.