All Stories

It was one of those 24-hour suburban gyms, a passcard got members in, day or night. People liked the day and early evening hours, sweating and whirling away on stationary bicycles. I preferred the slack span after midnight, when it was rare to see exercisers there. I liked having the place to myself—the racks of gleaming dumbbells, floor-to-ceiling mirrors. There was food around and I’d munch on protein bars. I was getting jacked. I’d admire myself in the mirrors. You should’ve seen my legs.

It was sweet for a while. My world.

And then they brought in the damn cat!

Syd knew the architecture of stars, the upside-downness of words, the inside-outness of the heart. All his life, they called him weird. All his life, he tried but couldn’t change that.

Then, on a bus he met Sammi, talking to her flowers. Each day, he sat closer. One day, she gave him a flower, whispering their language to him. For her, he ventured far from the shores of his solitude. On the beach, he hummed the music of crazy love, watching waves shimmy and fret, come and go.

Syd’s galaxy shifted. ‘Weird’ stopped mattering when she said ‘yes’ to him, petal-soft.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I would like a cheese pizza,” a trembling woman’s voice responded.

“Pizza?” Ted asked in disbelief. “Ma’am, I think you’ve called the wrong number.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“You called 911 to order a pizza?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly, there was a thumping sound and a hoarse male voice came through Ted’s headphones. “Hey, bozo, what’s taking so long? We want a cheese pizza, got it?”

Ted felt an icy wisp of air sting his eyes and freeze him on the spot.

“Hello?” the man growled. “You know what, I’m hanging u—”

“Yes, sir, can I get an address?”

Blood oozed from Ellen’s finger as she anxiously bit it. Her mother’s vacant stare looked right through her to the clear water around the boat, a single tear squeezing out from her cold eyes.

Fake, Ellen knew.

Images of that night flashed in her head. She saw herself hiding behind the door, the broken glass covering the tiles, her mother’s glazed eyes and bloody hands. She heard her sister’s final shriek. The memory made her shiver.

Then, tasting the salt of tears on her lips, Ellen tipped the box over, and watched her beloved sister’s ashes float on the stagnant lake.

Today was no fun.  We had church on a Wednesday.  Matteo and I had to dress up.

Daddy held me for a long time. People came by, like a parade. They shook Grandpa’s hand and hugged Mommy. That made us late going in. Everybody was already singing.

There was a big box. Flowers too. People were crying, even Matteo. I fell asleep.

Daddy said, “Good-bye, Shirley.” Matteo said, “Good-bye, Grandma.” I dunno why. Grandma wasn’t even there.

We went outside. Daddy wouldn’t let us play. People kept crying, even though it was sunny out.

We went inside for cake.

Weird day.

He’d been there a good two months when they found him. It took four firemen three hours to burrow through.

Neighbours reacted when the stench permeated their homes. They were used to the overgrowth, nightly cries of foraging foxes and rats, but this was extreme.

Upstairs was unreachable. Towers of newspapers and junkmail dating back to the 1950s. Downstairs full to bursting with bags of clothing, packaging, junkyard oddities, all filed in what seemed an orderly manner to a disorderly man.

The council demolished the house and contents, deeming it unsafe and costly. Nobody ever knew the value of its treasures.