The story of the week for July 18 to 22 was…
A Tropical Sky River is Meandering by Evelyn Symes
NEWS: Vacation Break!
From the Editor:
I’m away on vacation this week, and unfortunately I wasn’t able to schedule the week’s stories in advance. My apologies.
Stories will resume next week, and we’ll do a double week to celebrate, with 4 stories per day!
EVELYN SYMES: A Tropical Sky River is Meandering
A tropical sky river is meandering. It has eroded its ancient banks and moved North. It roars over the roofs of our houses, flooding our fields and towns, stirring diluvial mud to cover our carbon footprints. Like Noah in his ark, we pray, repent, and promise that we will change.
Evelyn comes from a rural family of tall tale tellers and proudly carries on the family tradition with the usual lies, exaggerations, and blatant understatements.
DAVE MYERS: Before She Moves Into Her Last Home
I follow my aging mother through narrow backstreets of Paris. She pauses at a corner, looks every direction twice, then settles on a new bearing. She is a salmon, fading memories her fine-tuned sense of smell.
Finally, she stops at a crumbling facade: her childhood home.
Soon, she moves on.
Dave Myers (he/him) lives and teaches in Bend, Oregon.
HELEN CURRAN: Glass Woman
She once was sand, her body a swirling phantom. Her old haunt, the gaping maw of a ship.
Harvested on a Tuesday, melted on a Wednesday, molded on a Thursday. He made his perfect piece. Fragile, transparent—no hidden crevices.
He gripped too hard. Shattered, she took blood as reparation.
Helen Curran is a University of Cincinnati student with published poetry in East Fork: A Journal of the Arts. She thinks dogs are cute and sometimes she’s not lazy, actually sitting down to write (rare).
PAULA HENRY-DURU: Visitors Beware
Can we meet at yours instead? My table slurps the coffee rings; the coat rack shrugs off polyester; the fridge wakes at noon and is off weekends. Only yesterday I had to beg the sofa to spit out the neighbour and no I’m not just giving excuses. What’s your address?
Paula is a student and is always looking for a good book to read.
BILL COX: Morning in the Warzone
The plane hangs like a cross in the sky. It climbs uncertainly, laboriously, precariously. A finger of fire rises briskly up to meet it, to stab it down from the clouds, back to earth. I watch the fragments fall, scattered like forsaken prayers, and wonder if we’ll ever rise again.
Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland. He arrived here from a parallel universe, where he was the most famous author of his generation. Sick of fame, he now seeks obscurity and his current standard of writing pretty much guarantees that.
ELIZABETH ZAHN: Mutual Misunderstanding
Mitchell’s tears dropped onto his mac and cheese. “We’re not chasing tornados on vacation,” his parents said. They knew they’d let him watch too many storm-chaser shows.
They promised Mitchell an adventure. Just a safer one.
He looked up, bright-eyed: “You mean there’s another way we can get to Oz?”
Elizabeth lives on Long Island, NY, and has a green thumb for African violets. Find her at ElizabethZahn.com.
JIM ANDERSON: Hooking Up before Cell Phones
On my nightly route, my headlights caught you on the expressway shoulder, waving a white flag beside a green Pinto. I stopped. Your sister was giving birth. You wanted a cop, but you got a farm boy. I figured, How hard can calving be when the calf weighs seven pounds?
Jim Anderson lives in southeast Michigan with his wife and five cats. He blogs at JimTheWriter.net.
CAROL TYMANN: Decisions
Today’s task: finally clean out the jewelry box
Three piles: Keep Recycle Discard
A gold ring swathed in pink yarn still fits
Still evokes the peak of joy, then the nadir of despair
A hole where his initial is absent
As he often was
Decision: discard pile, definitely
…Next time
Carol Tymann, a retired kindergarten teacher, loves to read and write.