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Potato Eyes

January 17, 2017 6 Comments

Potato Eyes
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I can’t pass that house without seeing those girls.

Empty windows stare back, curtains burned away; yellow tape flaps limply.

There they were, all along: living among us, packed like potatoes in a brown bag under the sink, forgotten until it bursts.

Did we pass them every day, not hearing cries for help through bricked walls, not seeing notes passed through chinks in boarded windows?

Did they start the fire?

We know only this: that they were found holding hands, waiting for rescue that never came. Nothing left but carbon and calcium: walls we never crossed, windows we never broke through.

By Kathryn Kulpa

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Comments

  1. Jacqueline Vaughn says

    January 17, 2017 at 7:06 am

    Brilliance moving though time and space. Kathryn has mastered the fine art of literary imagery using the old adage that less is more. For Kulpa, less always yields more.

    Reply
  2. Tania Moore says

    January 17, 2017 at 7:28 am

    Katherine, what a complete and vivid story with a long lingering resonance. Wonderful!

    Reply
  3. liz milne says

    January 17, 2017 at 9:20 am

    Brilliant story, well done

    Reply
  4. Thomas Minder says

    January 17, 2017 at 9:25 am

    Great story. Really draws the reader in and invokes empathy.

    Reply
  5. Tim says

    January 17, 2017 at 10:26 am

    A moment in time. A haunting memory. That’s FF.

    Reply
  6. Joanna Bressler says

    January 17, 2017 at 12:42 pm

    Amazingly good story. It makes everyone into an unseeing bystander. Congrats.

    Reply

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