FOUL • by Alan Vernon
One swing of the bat and a frozen rope laced foul from the barrel of a 32-ounce bat beaned my Dad straight in the left temple, and he crumpled in my lap. It was opening day. I was ten years… Continue Reading
death of a parent
AFTER THE FUNERAL • by Alison Jean Ash
After the service, everyone came up to console me. Women enfolded me in scented hugs, cooing like so many mourning doves, “Deepest sympathy,” “So sorry for your loss,” and “She’s in a better place now.” The men patted my shoulder… Continue Reading
HAVENLESS • by Emily Marcason-Tolmie
My younger brother Ben and I sit shoulder to shoulder on the worn leather couch in our family room. “I promise you both Dad is going to fight this,” my mother quietly says. Her eyes meet mine, and I see… Continue Reading
BALLOONS FOR GRANDAD • by Luke Saldanha
My old man’s dad died just a month before I was born. I always wished I’d met him. He was, by all accounts, a real character I’d have enjoyed talking to. Ma’s dad was still with us, so to differentiate… Continue Reading
HIS GREAT PLAN • by Gary Duncan
There’s a dirty brown puddle at the bottom of West Street where the snow has melted and turned to sludge. Not that many years ago she would have dived in with both feet, splashing till her socks and trousers were… Continue Reading
A DAUGHTER’S WAITING • by Reena Thomas
Her father was still there. She watched as the wrinkled white sheets slowly rose with each breath — a movement so slight it seemed not to justify the word. Sometimes, she would place her head on his chest just to… Continue Reading
ONE MINUTE • by Cara Albert
The first knife my dad throws at me lands within a couple inches of my right ear. It comes as quite a shock. Not the ‘my dad’s trying to kill me’ part. That’s what he paid fifty dollars to do… Continue Reading
LIKE SNOWFLAKES DANCING • by Cathy McCrumb
On my drive home last night, the flakes danced in and out of my car’s headlights, and a dusting of snow moved in low eddies over the pavement. The sounds of Pachelbel’s Canon in D echoed the snow’s dance. The… Continue Reading
BLACK ICE • by Liz Walker
My father has told me my mother’s name. He’s told me she had long black hair, like me, and that she died in an accident. Her car skidded across an ice patch and bit into a telephone pole. He’s even… Continue Reading
BEFORE DAWN • by Laura Alexandra Hunter
This is the part of my job I love the most, waking up before dawn to conduct routine maintenance on the flags that fly on top of the Auckland Harbour Bridge. This morning the skyline is like a picture my… Continue Reading