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One Cerulean Moment
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One Cerulean Moment

I think for one cerulean moment that I might be in heaven but Pauly turns and something in his face goes on and my dad says, hey kiddo, and kicks the third chair out for me.

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Longevity

Canadian Fiction: Theo Waits

Unless you are talking about things I can plant in my stories like the wooden bridge that went sideways during winter storms or the sound of night hockey or the sharp rocks you placed in the corners of your tent so you wouldn’t fly away, I am not listening. I am making people up instead. I use my father’s blue eyes to feel a flash of him and for my mother it’s flowers, just a hint, and then somebody like Theo lands on the page and we’re off. He blew in over night. I saw the lights whir around my bedroom, just a second of a blueredbluered and then only whitefor a long time which was perfect because I had maybe four pages to go and my flashlight was barely a ghost. I heard car doors and voices, there was a final whir of colour, and if I thought about

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Longevity

Fiction Short: Trixie

Aunt Trixie borrowed me on Saturdays.  She could have asked for Helen who was prettier, Mary who was nicer, or even Carol who everybody said was a hoot. But she picked me. You are going out with your Aunt Trixie today June, my mother said that first time, she will pick you up at noon. I couldn’t eat any more. I passed my toast to Carol who dipped its edges in ketchup while I watched not exactly in horror but in something new. It was only ten after nine.  I tried reading but my eyes kept going through the window. I tried corking but same thing. I took a bath but couldn’t linger. Finally I started dusting and tidying and sweeping and then before I knew it I was washing the floors and then the stairs and the bedrooms and the bathroom and all the glass and mirrors. I took the

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