One and a half miles. Seven thousand nine hundred and twenty feet.
That alone stood between Reese and the Triple Crown.
And eight other horses, but who cared about them? Not Reese, and certainly not her horse, Paddock Pizzazz, who butted his metal head against the starting gate, impatient. Smoke blew from the metal plates covering his nostrils, filling Reese’s lungs with acrid exhaust.
The summer I first traveled to America, my father wore a red shirt so I could spot him in the crowds. Let’s just say that system doesn’t work if other people are wearing red shirts and you’re a five-year-old who can’t see above anyone’s butt.
As soon as we joined the mob in front of JFK to catch a cab, I got separated from Dad.
On the evening of June 20, the president sat alone in the Oval Office, reviewing intelligence reports. The peace talks in Paris were going well—at least enough to silence the protesters at home. His reelection committee had hit a minor snag, but they were managing it. As long as he could distract the public…
Read it now
“Night, Alex,” my buddies called as they climbed into their car.
I waved as they drove away, then headed inside to clean up. I brushed popcorn off the sofa and collected plates of half-finished pizza. The end credits of the sixth movie continued scrolling on the TV and I bobbed my head with the music.
The nauseating ammonia smell of squid flora is always the first thing I notice upon waking. Some days it’s faint, but today the wind brings the acrid smell right into my riverside hidey-hole. I peek out at the wreckage of the squid ship—dark, twisted metal covering a half mile of riverfront.
Read it now
When I woke, I could feel each fiber of the plasticky hospital sheet covering me. But it was distant, almost like someone else was feeling it. I pulled off the sheet and stared at two human-looking legs. I dug my fingernails into my right quadricep hard enough to make it bleed but felt no pain.
Read it now
Silvee tugged at her brother’s sleeve. “That’s not the one, Lukah.”
A scowl flitted across the store manager’s face before he plastered on a smarmy smile and leered over them.
“If you don’t like the Next Gen 4x Madre, then how about the Mamen 4000? It’s still got the 360-surveillance visual range, cleaning and multitasking functions, and excellent culinary features.
“April showers bring May flowers.” That’s what my grandma always said when I ran to hide under the table as thunder cracked the sky.
She claimed our family were the shepherds of this process, that the lightning couldn’t reach the plants without our help. Lightning Petal Farmers, everyone else called us.
“Mom, do you know how to make a burrito?”
“Old Earth foods are under heading six on the Nutritionator,” I muttered as I held up my hand massager to the light. Yep. Little tooth marks lined the pinky finger. I shook my head in confusion. While I’d noticed scrapes on my hair-styler that morning, I’d thought they were scuff marks
Rich pulled his chair out from the breakfast table and glanced across it at his grandson. Tommy had his hand over his mouth, struggling to stifle a laugh. Rich bit back a smile. Tommy really hadn’t hidden the whoopee cushion well enough. Oh well, what could you expect from an eight-year-old? He sat down. Blaaaat.
Read it now
Entering the sprawling bullpen at Inter-Consolidated Global, I noticed a sprig of colorful balloons sprouting from my cubicle. Clearly someone else knew what today was.
Tina Vallejo, the cute, freckled brunette who issued my ID badge last May, taped up the last of the glistening neon streamers over my workstation. “Happy birthday, Doug!”
Gramps never did like paying taxes. But that didn’t mean he should abolish the IRS.
“Never have I used the word ‘abolish,’” he protested to Grandma, as he’d done every April for each of the thirteen years I’d lived with them. “But what’s wrong with invisible-izing myself?”
He meant really invisible-izing, as in, all records of his existence…
Recent Comments