Tag Archives: Fathers and Daughters

My Father Calls Me, Wondering About His Car

My Father Calls Me, Wondering About His Car

CREATIVE NONFICTION by

It was his taxi where he got stuck daily in crosstown traffic that sent him exploding with rage. This was the taxi where he was once held up at gunpoint and this was the taxi where he took naps during slow afternoons. This was the taxi whose seats he scrubbed with bleach and this was the taxi in which he picked us up from our mother’s house and drove us to school, home from basketball practice, and came to get us in, always, when we needed him.more

Look What You Made Me Do

Look What You Made Me Do

FICTION by

In the kitchen, Leta puts on dishwashing gloves, pulls a plastic bag from under the sink. In the backyard twilight, she scoops the cat carcass up, dumps it in the bag. The intestines coil at the bottom like a glistening snake. Behind her, Jack shifts in his pen, catching the scent of blood again, and she hisses at him, a warning. She ties the bag tight, shivers, holds it to her chest. Where to put it now? more

Merry Xmas, OK?

Merry Xmas, OK?

FICTION by

This year Chappy resolved to show his daughter what Christmas was all about. They’d do it together, like a real goddamn family.more

Good Luck, Harriet (Not That You Need It)

Good Luck, Harriet (Not That You Need It)

FICTION by

“Look, it’s complicated, and you wouldn’t understand.  Don’t ruin our fledgling friendship with too many questions, Jack.  It’s all so tedious.”more

Legacy

Legacy

FICTION by

I rotated my hips outward, pretending to be a dancer, and did a sloppy arabesque, showing my striped underwear to the mirror. I held myself there, distorted and wobbly, and noted how far my body could bend on its own. I stared and stared, and, like saying a word so many times it no longer sounds like a word, I became less and less human to myself.more