The church made of ice did not melt despite
the air so hot it smelled like breath exhaled from a mouth full of never-brushed
teeth. Children loosed in the park to
traumatize one another on the monkey bars and cargo nets were the first to see
it, eyes glazing down the long hill as they kicked high on the swings whose
rubber seats burned the undersides of their thighs. They stared and pointed, then screeched for
their harried caregivers, who allowed themselves to be yanked down the path
that drizzled into the valley marking the middle of the park, where a pair of
tattered and abused baseball fields sprouted weeds along the baselines. The dugouts were home to tetanus, used
condoms, empty beer cans.
When the first mother saw what her son was
gawking at, yanking her arm so hard she thought her shoulder would pop out of
its socket, she felt the blood leave her head, the perspiration caked at her
hairline evaporating like a fine mist. …
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The cat crouched in
the corner of the tent hissing, drawing in its scent if it could. She stared
fixedly at Abdullah while he painted the final card. He lifted it up and waved it
in the air to dry.
Nardil nearly
snatched the card from Abdullah’s hand, while gathering up the rest of the set.
The boy raced toward the flap, clutching them tightly in his fist. He turned
once to look at the artist and was gone.
Nardil ran through
the coming dust storm toward the Mamluk General’s luxurious tent. He was proud
to have the task of presenting the tarot to the great man. He high-stepped even
though his scrawny legs were getting caught up in his tattered clothes.
Safiya, his younger
sister, crouched outside the artist’s tent, waiting for him.…
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I knew from the moment my unholy foot crossed its raised threshold, that Theatre Hall was tormented by something surreal, something unnatural. How I surmised this, so quickly, and yet so certainly, I cannot be sure. It was as clear to me as the Proscenium stage, lit up by a dozen or so overhead spotlights.
Something
lingered here, something dead and hollowed out. It did not feel malevolent to
me, not vengeful or violent. I was only aware of the overwhelming pressure of
hopelessness, of long, insurmountable despair.
My
drama professor stood at the front of the room, prattling on about the history of
the building, pointing out its architectural subtleties. He spoke with all the
enthusiasm of someone impassioned by personal interest. Still, I couldn’t bring
myself to invest in the lecture, couldn’t curtail the sinking ache that seemed
to have imbedded itself into my chest wall.…
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We used to go on runs
all the time. People would call me Old
Yeller and kids would call me Marley, but we don’t go on runs anymore because
of my paws and now I’m just called Cleo, but that’s not my real name either.
Cleo isn’t allowed to
eat people-food. Cleo isn’t allowed to
sleep on the bed or sit on the couch.
There are a lot of things Cleo can’t do. I used to eat people-food every day and when
I’m alone I sleep on the couch.
But I am not always
alone.
I like Walter better
than Deborah. Deborah tells Walter I’m a
good doggy. Walter tells me I’m a good doggy. He used to take me on runs, but now Walter
takes me on walks. …
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Dear Mr. Emperor,
Sorry to bug you with a
letter, but I couldn’t find a suggestion box at your original 32nd Ave location, and I didn’t
want to trouble your devoted employees, who were busy offering samples, filling
waffle cones, and making change. Not that you need any help from us peons: you’re
the Emperor of Ice Cream!
And I’m your No. 1 Fan.
Seriously. I was there at Ground Zero during the soft opening, followed by the
grand opening, then two or three times a week, more often six or seven, for the
past however many glorious years. My doctor has some concerns about my diet
owing to my weight and cholesterol levels, but only because he’s a worrywart
who’s never tasted two scoops of your Almond Brittle with Salted Ganache in a
sugar cone.…
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These bitches didn’t even know I was ready.
“Just give me a reason to defend myself.”
I repeated this as a mantra in the parking lot
of the Lauderdale Lakes Point Café.
We were at the breaking point. Another week.
Another battle.
I took a moment to consider my triggers. There
was Ray. There was me being pregnant. There was obviously my mother. Which.
I wasn’t going to do it.
I wasn’t going to do it this time.
I wasn’t even going to bring up my mother.
I was the only one who ever brought up my
mother.
Bringing up my mother was entirely in my
control.
Even though, of course, as usual, she was
driving me crazy.
But I wasn’t going to do it.…
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I wrapped Mummy, Daddy, and my sister Jenny up in blankets so that
they’d keep warm and left them in my parents’ bedroom. I was the only one who
hadn’t been sick. They’d been really bad, but at least they were sleeping it
off now. There was a really nasty smell coming from the bedroom, it’d been
getting worse with each day, but I didn’t go in there because I didn’t want to
wake them.
A lot of people round the estate were sick. I hadn’t seen anybody else since it all started. It had never been so quiet. There were no cars driving down the roads, they were all sat on the driveways and at the sides of the pavements as though they were just resting too.…
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