You cannot judge my father by the law of the land. The crimes your witnesses claim he committed at sea either did not happen or were done out of necessity. I stand before your honor, high on the quarterdeck, and the assembled “victims” in this court, clinging to the mahogany taffrail…
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I eyed Tira as she stumbled across our living room. Dressed in a sparkly pink thigh-length dress, zebra print high heels, and bunny ears, I almost didn’t recognize my usually reserved roommate.
Tira yawned and tossed her purse toward the futon. It bounced off the cushion and dropped to the floor.
Exhausted, Dr. Eitan Broshi clapped his hands together to dispel the clinging dirt from the dig site. His limbs trembled from the long hours of tedious effort. The sun had wandered behind the low mountain, and all his colleagues had long since returned to the camper. Even at this distance, he could hear their drunken debate.
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“Good morning, Centerville! It’s Saturday, March 31st!”
I leapt from bed, staring wide-eyed at the nightstand clock radio. “Again?”
Rushing around my apartment, I confirmed the deejay was not pulling an April Fool’s prank. My journal ended March 30. I needed to dust and vacuum—again. And those soggy brown bananas
“Ain’t no way they ever put anybody up on that moon,” Hank Owens said confidently.
Mayor Geoff Collins raised an eyebrow. “How do you figure that?”
As Hank laughed, a thin stream of tobacco juice dribbled from the corner of his mouth. “They shot that rocket straight up into the air, right?
Bjørn thrust his numb hands deeper inside his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the bitter cold as he crept through the forest, searching for the creatures he hoped could save his future. To his right, he could just make out the river Meuse, still and silent under a glistening layer of ice.
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I pedaled furiously, squinting to make out the next turn by the beam of the flashlight tucked into my bike basket.
My mom would catch up with me soon, I was sure of it. Even if I hadn’t left the shoebox of old newspaper clippings and my scribbled notes from library trips strewn across my bedspread
Morning’s pale light radiates through the cracks in the storehouse where I sleep, and I lean into the comforting warmth. The air is silent and still. Heavy with expectation. My stomach pinches in hunger and I tuck my legs to my chin, whimpering. Wait for the pain to pass.
Pain. One.
Doctor Holloway! Can we please swim in your pool?” The boy looked about nine, and a couple of multicolored beach towels flapped over his shoulder as he came running toward Denise, who was about to pull a lawnmower’s cord. With him was a slightly younger girl, an inflatable swim ring encircling her waist
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April 27, 1986
The comforting notes of Babushka’s music box make my heart shatter.
What would she have thought, standing in her granddaughter’s shoes, watching the sky morph as radiation pours into the air? Even in the pain, I imagine she would’ve known what to do. How to help. How to make a difference.
The harsh lights in the interrogation room stung my eyes as Detective Ironflutter smacked her police-issued wand against her palm and fluttered her wings to loom over me. “C’mon, Ivory. Just tell us where the fairy godmother’s wand is.”
I leaned back but forced my eyes to meet hers.
Detective Bixby kneels next to the broken glass. He lifts a tear-shaped shard in his callused fingers. Is it the shape of a tear or half of a broken heart? Either way, it reminds him of the woman he loves. The woman he lost… or, more accurately, never had. With a mournful sigh
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