While We Fall Apart: Fictional Shorts

Johnny was trying to write but her fingers were stuck in the deep past and her mind had found it's way wandering into the future. She couldn't decide whether future events would occur, and therefore she often times found herself wallowing in what had been, trying to put it in nice little satin boxes so that she could sort it out and put it away for good. She uncrossed her legs and straightened her posture. ~ We all want to move forward. We all want to breath in that fresh air, suck it in and swirl it around in our lungs, becoming young again, but brushing off the dust that has settled, hopefully undoing the wrongs that had been done. Fresh once more. Naive once more.  ~ Johnny, short for Johannesburg, a name given to her by her father who had once fallen in love with the South African city, was lost in 2002, the year that had stolen her innocence. She'd moved on, or at least it looked as such to all who passed her by--she was rich in material goods--but she knew things to b

She sits, alone, yet surrounded by her family who also sit alone. She is two years old and so is her machine. Give your child the head start they deserve. From womb to learning in days. What more could a mother give? What greater gift could a parent bestow? So she sits. Bright colors pop out at her and she squeals in excitement. “Doggy! Frog! Ribbit!” She giggles at the images. They are her closest friends.  Give your child the dream they’ve been waiting for. Don’t wait another moment. And you will get so much done. All of that housework awaits! Run to yoga! Go shopping!  Her older sister laughs at a video across from her. She makes a face, a perfect one, for the camera and snaps a shot. She scrolls. Her sister’s diaper is wet. No one notices, not even the toddler. Give your kids the fun they’ve been dreaming of! Don’t let them feel left out! They’ll never have a dull moment again. The oldest sister has been crying. She lost a good friend to suicide. Sixteen long years of feeling isola

Tennyson’s Song   David Brancaccio was a success. By every measure, he had risen to the top of his field and  was considered “la creme de la creme” by his peers. He had everything he desired,  everything anyone could want, except for one thing, and for this, he turned to his headset  where he could easily slip into a new world.   479-1 Dad and Son    “Why do you always stop mid-sentence as if an ending isn’t necessary?” Marcus  questioned as he sat with his hands open wide, resting on his worn jeans.   She looked at him with eyes of steel, open, yet hardened. “…because it isn’t. There’s no  point.”    Weeks had gone by like this. Each day bringing more and more complexity until the  thoughts had curved themselves up and down the pathways of his mind and wound up tangled.  All questions had been dodged.    He rose in anger. “Wake up, Stephanie! How are we ever going to fix anything if we can’t  even have a conversation?” he asked in a raised voice, one that he didn’t realize would wake 

It wasn't until the Toyota rolled itself down the driveway  in the middle of a brisk spring night that I realized what  time it was.  "Jillian, It finally happened. I knew it would," he cleared  his throat loudly, abruptly like he always did.”I wish you  would have done something about this earlier. When are you  gonna learn? Now you have to deal with it the hard way,” he  said dogmatically. It was his style.  There was a long pause. The air thickened like the day-old  pudding that sat in the fridge. Jack loved pudding— butterscotch like his momma made.  "I mean, once it's in the street you really just have to  come to terms with it, Jill. There's a problem. You know  that,” he continued. So matter of fact. So right all of the  time. I told you so and other phrases of a similar sort  seemed to move around him like a wicked Salem dance. They  were just part of his biography—the self appointed king of  responsibility. And to make matters worse, it was true. I’d