101 Words

Booted from home for flunking and drinking. A blot on the family. Nobody understood the pain, bullying, exclusion.

Now, unwelcome everywhere, a blot on the city. Huddled in a buttonless wool coat, jackpot of a dumpster dive, I warm myself by trashcan fires. I’m accepted here. It’s enough.

Until today.

A garbage truck struck Roland, our firekeeper. We hollered, but got a lungful of diesel fumes.

Roland was dead. Hauled away, like refuse.

I’m done.

Moonless night, quiet bridge, river cold and swift. Whatever’s below has to be better. Hell, I’m already at the bottom.

No one will know I’m gone.

After a particularly fun day, Eva wished upon an eyelash that she didn’t have to go to bed. It hadn’t been the first time.

“Look, Dada, the moon is gone!” The two looked out the window, and there was no moon. As the stars blinked, they disappeared one by one until the sun began to rise.

Her father tried to remain composed. “Eva, you are in BIG trouble if you don’t bring back the nighttime, right now.”

With a smug face and twinkle in her eye, Eva laughed and laughed. There will never be a bedtime again, she thought to herself.

In the depths of winter on a Sunday morning, she found herself passed out in the family cemetery. She awoke to slight sounds that could be heard nearby. Rising slowly to her feet, she pulled out her bow and arrow, took aim, and fired.

Assuming it was a rabbit, she drew closer without hesitation. This was the toughest archer in the village, and therefore the strongest of warriors among the contenders.

Peering behind the bushes, there was no corpse to be seen. A low rumble began, followed by bright red eyes from the bush. Her courage may not save her now.

Drift past snowflakes dancing and whisper through the words floating in gaps. Always there, never noticed. I wish I were a young girl’s tinkly laugh. I wish I were even a coat around an elderly man.

Alas, I am unnoticed, invisible. Wandering down paths I pull the snow; it twists and swirls and dips, like stardust. And was that me? Yes, it was. I made something to treasure, a sparkle to admire.

A man looks up and smiles, his coat forgotten on his shoulders. A girl glances up from beneath her lashes and her eyes widen watching the breath of air.

Rays of sunlight fell down through half-closed curtains. Children played outside, and garbage tumbled down in a truck. None of those things woke you up.

A drop of water threatened to fall from the tip of a faucet in the kitchen. The slightest breeze or tremble would disturb that droplet. Then a semi outside trembled the foundations of the house. The drop crashed down on the metal surface. A high pitch resonated for a brief moment. Your eyes flew open, startled by the sound as if that single drip distressed you the most. An unwanted disruption in your life. Like me.

When she saw the headline that Monday morning, a white bird unfurled its wings in her chest.

It can’t be true, she thought. God punishes virtue not sin.

When she saw his name—number 42 on that dreadful list—her eyes brimmed, but her lips twitched.

When the sky turned black that night, she filched his spare car-keys from the drawer and crashed his baby into the first potted plant outside the gate.

The sky did not fall. Her phone did not ring.

Tearing open a pack of crisps, she took off her wedding ring and at last began to dream.