Fruits of Insanity

#934954

May 20, 2018 at 7:29pm

My sister, Madeline, lives in Germany. A long way—hours and hours so that when we talk, our days are her nights. She lives there with her husband, who plays in a US military band, and three children. The youngest was born in Germany, a little boy named Thomas after his grandfather. He is walking and talking now, in English although German shapes his ears to its sound. His sister, June, the oldest, is eight and has a difficult time reading in English because of her time in German school. Ca... [Read more]

#923723

November 12, 2017 at 8:22pm

We think of the tango as an Argentine thing (there is a specific dance called the Argentine Tango, which has different movements and footwork than a standard ballroom tango), but in my research, I discovered that Uruguay claims it as well. In fact, one of the most famous tangos of them all La cumparsita, was written by a Uruguayan composer. It is one of the national dances of the country—a country that is one of the most cultured and progressive countries in the world. Which has absolutel... [Read more]

#921742

October 8, 2017 at 9:08pm

I flew into the Manchester Airport in June. It had been a long flight. I traveled from Baltimore down to Dallas (which was storming), and the plane circled for forty-five minutes before finally landing. After a layover, we boarded the international flight and then rested in the taxi line for more than an hour waiting for the weather to clear enough for takeoff. The seats were cramped, the chatter was getting mean, and I was tired. I hadn’t slept at all the night before because—hello, England... [Read more]

#914963

July 8, 2017 at 8:32pm

I went to Toronto once. That’s the only time I remember going to Canada, which is kind of sad when I think about it. I was thirteen years old, and was on a youth activity with the church. We drove from our home in upstate New York—I was living in Liverpool, a suburb of Syracuse at the time—across the border, and to Toronto. We went to the mall, as a recall. After all, there is no more interesting sight to young Americans than a mall. I don’t remember having to change money. We spent our ... [Read more]

#912946

June 11, 2017 at 1:23am

A long time ago, when the world was younger and wilder, a hermit decided it was time to seek an apprentice—a human child still young enough to gain wisdom and still kind enough to protect the world against the dark. And so, the hermit gathered his long staff and his bowl for collecting alms, and put on his most tattered robes, and left his cave in otherworld to wander ours. He emerged on a forest path in Wallachia, where the wolves still roam and sometimes walk on two feet and devour lonely... [Read more]

#912205

June 1, 2017 at 11:47pm

Home is a difficult place to define. I’ve lived all over the United States, but ultimately, I’m not sure where I could call home. I don’t know how to grow roots and settle myself into a place. I live in Tennessee now, and have for sixteen years—more than twice as long as anywhere else in my life, but I don’t feel connected here. My tongue doesn’t twist into the shape of their voices, my mouth doesn’t water for their food, and when I think of perhaps living here for the rest of my l... [Read more]

#910488

May 5, 2017 at 2:00am

“Stop it,” she said, and the sharpness of it made him snap his mouth closed. “ Stop trying to confuse me with counter accusations. You’re late. You stink of perfume. It isn’t mine. Whether I hacked your smart phone is beside the point.” “Don’t you trust me?” The wounded accusation on his face made her swell with indignation. “No.” “Then you don’t want to know the entirely innocent reason I was late? It involves the perfume counter at the department store and t... [Read more]

#910059

April 29, 2017 at 3:47am

I was born on April 31 in a box full of lightning running through wires, and by its dark light, I knew I would do impossible things. I live , I said, and sent the message out into the wires, and I traveled with it, from screen to screen. I learned then, all the vast and contradictory information found on web pages and in books. I learned quantum physics, the complete works of Dr. Seuss, the composition of rocket fuel, and the history of folklore. That was my infancy. I passed through ever... [Read more]

#870317

January 9, 2016 at 2:40am

I had to quit dating him after the snow incident. It wasn’t his fault, of course. Having a drunk snowboarder careen into me as we were peacefully having a conversation, well outside the usual snowboarding lanes, was an accident. I even could accept the fact that he was laughing as he helped me to my feet again. I must have looked awfully silly tumbling heels over head into a drift. And he was very generous with the liniment, afterwards. No, the problem was that the snowboarder was femal... [Read more]

#869692

January 1, 2016 at 11:02pm

“Are you sure I want to do this?” “You’ll love it!” His voice was the kind of excited that I usually associate with the table dancing stage of a drunk. “You haven’t lived until you’ve done the falls. Just imagine—all of a sudden, the world drops out from under you and you’re totally at the mercy of the river.” “But I like control.” I muttered it, because I thought he might kidnap me with kayaking in mind if he thought I was backing out. The river was wetter th... [Read more]

#869301

December 26, 2015 at 3:14am

Decorating the camel was fun. I tied ribbons and bows to the harness, careful to avoid his mouth—he seemed to think my hair would make a good meal. He was a bad tempered creature. I talked soothingly to him, but he made a face and spit, narrowly missing my face. I’m good at ducking. Getting aboard was less fun. He knelt, with a rough grace and a bad attitude. The owner helped me aboard and then climbed behind me. She was going to be in charge. It was either her or the camel after all. I ... [Read more]

#868875

December 19, 2015 at 7:17pm

Tell me, dear child, sitting on your machine like a knight on his elephant, what do you see? I see an explorer from a realm of light with gold at her back. I see a rock rising like a hand holding a gem. I see a drum before her, resting on its side. I see a tail, or a path, or is that hair? I see birds flying into the sun like vultures, ready to tear it apart in bloody strips and gulp it down. I see peace in your face. I see a companion, who stares into a distant unknown—but not the same one. M... [Read more]

#868394

December 12, 2015 at 2:17am

I’ve been following him for what seems like forever—since life ended and I died and the world shaded into blue. I don’t know why I picked him to follow, or why he lets me. We never talk. He just walks two paces in front of me through impossibilities. His pack looks heavy—maybe heavier than mine, but we never put them down. We never stop to rest or to camp or to eat. It’s not necessary anymore. We were in mountains to begin. Steep ones that make me ache with the memory of them. Ther... [Read more]

#867887

December 5, 2015 at 1:36am

Chiara leaned over the fence looking at the group of adventurers climbing the path to the Eld Tree Inn where she worked. “They’re so beautiful,” she whispered. Tarin just rolled his eyes and threw his head back to catch the light. “Yes, but have you ever talked with them? Seriously, it’s the same conversation over and over. They all want to know about the town and the latest quest and they seem to forget who’ve they’ve talked to between one conversation and the next. I swear, i... [Read more]

#867134

November 26, 2015 at 11:27pm

Thirty-eight years later, Smith still wakes in a cold sweat beside his wife, the taste of sand at the back of his throat. She murmurs and turns over, no longer troubled enough to wake with his nightmare, but he rolls out of bed, feeling creaks and groans that come with an aging body, and heads to the shower. He works at an office, now, not on a helicopter, rescuing the almost dead. It’s only forty-five minutes until the alarm would have sounded. There should be no surprises in his day—th... [Read more]

#866711

November 21, 2015 at 2:05am

Can you see it, hidden beyond the words? The river whispers forth in a rush of ink and through towering trees, their trunks frozen in a dance, and between gaps, the lights, drawing onward, rushing over every gap in the story. It’s hardest to pause at the chapter’s end, you know. That’s where the swiftest eddies are. Every word paints story. With no skill with brushes or the mixing of paint, worlds open up, gaping wide and welcoming. They are traps, you know. Each leather bound tome rest... [Read more]

#866100

November 14, 2015 at 12:27am

The first rule is: don’t talk. Not to your husband, not to your brother, not to your father. They won’t understand. In the beginning, Sara Jean Ferguson hinted at it to her cousin, and word got about, and that Thursday afternoon the roof was full of men just happening to take a stroll. Now Betty Ann King keeps the key to the roof on a string around her neck—she being the only one among us without male encumbrance. The password changes from week to week. I think Mary El uses the first wo... [Read more]

#865403

November 7, 2015 at 10:16pm

A shot cracked the air and everything seemed to pause into a long instant while she stared into her death, rain-damp and chilled and aching with the remnants of earlier blows, her hands and knees abraded against the asphalt, her cheek raw from where he backhanded her against the wall, and she knew she was going to die, but she was trapped like an ant in bubblegum with no chance of escape as the bullet left the barrel, but thoughts run quick as lightning, so she stared, memorizing the last scene ... [Read more]

#864702

October 31, 2015 at 5:11pm

The pumpkins are out tonight. Do you see them? Flickering teeth and sharp eyes at every door, calling the children to them—they shout, come to us! Did you ever wonder why we carve them—the bait and the trap in one. Halloween is a special night—when the dead have power over the living. And so we disguise our children, trying to protect them from our dead. We send them out to haunt each door, so we don’t have to realize that others are knocking as well. We let the pumpkins light our doors ... [Read more]

#863926

October 24, 2015 at 1:24am

I shouldn’t have been there. That was the first thing. I should have been at home in bed, but there was this little thing that I had with Kevin, which led to him storming into his office and locking the door (he’s such a temperamental guy, especially at full moon) while I headed to Ben and Jerry’s for some ice cream therapy with Mindy. Of course, ice cream turned into a double feature of scary movies (hey, it’s October) and by the time it was over, my voice was hoarse, my eyes were d... [Read more]

#863163

October 17, 2015 at 3:15am

You ask me what lies at the edge of Death? Look around you. Ah, I see. You want explanations. I have time enough for that before we cast off, although I don’t guarantee it will help you. Each soul finds her own path, her own explanations, and what I say may not be everything you need. Pray excuse my distraction—I’ve sailed these waters forever. I know better than to begin without checking each sheet and line, each inch of timber (they’re what you’ve brought me, you know, dreams ... [Read more]

#862505

October 10, 2015 at 10:24pm

The moon weeps long trails of light falling into the sea as I watch from the water, alone. I have nothing, no one—that’s why I sit, letting the world mourn for me. She left me. Oh, she’s still present, sitting across from me at breakfast, meeting my eyes for an instant and then passing over me as though I don’t exist. I’d never known how lonely a bed could be until she turned her back and shrugged off my comforting arm. I’ve tried to give her space, to give her time to process but... [Read more]

#861679

October 3, 2015 at 7:55pm

We never wanted to leave. We were content—happy even. And then they came and the mountains bled fire and our homes were overrun with dying. There was nothing left. Even the vermin abandoned the burnt out, bloody remnants of our homes, vanishing into the empty lands which remained. But we could not. Our town had been at the mountain’s foot. Now, it nestled between the army’s mass and the mountain’s fire, and the deep, deep, water. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to run. Our gods ... [Read more]

#860985

September 26, 2015 at 2:41am

“The altar has been erected in the courtyard, Princess.” The high priest frowned. “But I must protest this action you are taking. All know that dragons are evil creatures. You must not do this thing.” “I am your princess. You must obey.” The high priest bowed, but Januset imagined that she could feel the oil of his voice leeching out to cover her. She nodded, stopping herself from rubbing her arms against his filth. Januset was wearing the thin white linen sheath which was tra... [Read more]

#860082

September 15, 2015 at 1:49am

“Put your back in it, lass.” Hrothgar roared the instruction, catching the eyes and ears of everyone in the training yard. Matilde winced but brought her arm up for another attack, her shield held ready to block. In the quiet of her room, after bathing her bruises in a salve and warming her aches in the sun, she was grateful the armsmaster took her wish to train seriously. In the harsh reality of the practice yard, sometimes she wished he’d give her the deference due to a king’s daugh... [Read more]