After Rapunzel donated her braid to Locks of Love, her head felt too light, like it might float away.
They called her selfless, saintly. They praised her for her sacrifice.
She couldn’t tell anyone the real truth—that she needed to learn who she was, without her hair defining her.
C.M.F. Wright writes sentences that occasionally turn into stories. Her short stories have appeared in Syntax & Salt Magazine and in the VSS365 Anthology.
Overweight girls don’t have many dates
My mother told me when I was 15
You might never get married
The diet doctor prescribed appetite-controlling pills
When I was still so hungry
Mother said, “Eat some lettuce”
I knew lettuce wouldn’t fill the emptiness in my stomach,
or in my heart.
Miriam Stein is a social worker, writer, and the author of Make Your Voice Matter With Lawmakers: No Experience Necessary. See more at makeyourvoicematter.com.
She grew through the cracks, a dandelion on a sidewalk, a burst of inspiration fancied by passing children before being cut back, squashed and yanked by those calling her merely a weed.
Short-lived but hardy, laying seeds so that we may recognize the simple beauty of simply being here now.
Lee DeAmali is doing okay today.
Okamoto’s eyes fix on the silvery gravel covering the park where he sits on a bench, briefcase resting against one leg, can of beer in hand.
Commuters stream by into the station, central Tokyo bound. He won’t be joining them.
Like yesterday morning, and he still hasn’t told his wife.
Rob Goss is a Tokyo-based writer. See more at tokyofreelance.com.