Alexis Araneta

“The Homecoming” by Alexis Araneta

21 June 2024Dear Mr. Kettering,You were right, after all. Despite the soliloquy I declared in front of you after my graduation ceremony two decades ago, the one where I used such choice adverbs such as “never” and “begrudgingly”, your little bit of ribbing predicted me grabbing my suitcase and filling it with the most superlative of my clothing in my closet. It’s true: I, Nellie Perkins-Todd, am flying off from London for a two-week visit to Homer, Louisiana. Technically, you could say that I’m coming home, much like Odysseus did in the epic...

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“A Need to Dance” by Alexis Araneta

Submitted to Contest #254

“I need to dance to this with you,” you demanded, your chartreuse eyes an inextinguishable flame that bored into my soul and burnt through my defences.Need! That’s not a need. A need is defined by the Oxford English Dictionary as something requisite or necessary. Dancing to “I’ll Be Around” by The Detroit Spinners is certainly not something that one requires to live…Zoe, I can’t dance.My brain spun and sputtered out all its reasons as if they were drops falling down a plastic tube. However, even it knew that it was helpless in the face of yo...

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“Her Song” by Alexis Araneta

Submitted to Contest #253

Author's Note (1) : This story uses the lyrics of Elton John's 1971 track "Your Song". I do not own the rights to this song or its lyrics. That would be him and the brilliant Bernie Taupin.“I feel my heart beat out of time,” Ryan Bernard whispered to himself whilst he blankly stared at the beat-up, black stereo system at the other end of the marketing office he worked in.He grasped at the juniper green silk tie that hung on his neck, as if his large, muscular hands were following a rhythm only he could hear. A shrill, pervasive tone rang in ...

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“The Purple Wave” by Alexis Araneta

Submitted to Contest #252

CW: Abuse, swearing“Oh my God! It’s happening,” Melissa Alton sputtered out in a breathless whisper, her well-modulated television journalist voice drowning in a wine-dark sea of nerves inside her. As she sat on the stool of the cedar dresser set, painted her favourite lavender, she bought from a rummage sale seven years ago, she felt her entire body tremble like a purple maple leaf in an autumn breeze.She stared at the mirror and broke into a slight, polite grin, her facial muscles tightening as it settled into the familiar quiet little smi...

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“Star of the Stories” by Alexis Araneta

Submitted to Contest #251

Speech for Harland Davenport Induction to UK Literary Society by Amanda Greenfield24 May 2024To the esteemed members of the UK Literary Society, – my fellow writers who create worlds out of words --- good evening. I would firstly like to say that I truly appreciate this opportunity to speak before you. I’m very happy to take to the podium for this momentous occasion. I’m equally ecstatic that this rather pricey bright pink silk Stella McCartney dress still fits my expanding belly.(Pause for laughs) As you all know, we are gathered here to in...

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“Golden Brown” by Alexis Araneta

Submitted to Contest #249

Author's Note: This story is heavily-inspired by the 1981 song "Golden Brown" by The Stranglers. I don't own the rights to this song or its lyrics.CW: Allusions to drug use**11 May 2024Dearest Aurelia,Just so you know, I played our song at my bar tonight. Yes, “Golden Brown” by The Stranglers, that familiar refrain that makes you break into that certain smile that makes my heart ebb and flow like a diamantine river, permeated --- what else –-- The Golden Brown Bar. Even after six years, I could still clearly picture it: the almost-medieval h...

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“A Tale of Two Cities” by Alexis Araneta

Submitted to Contest #248

May 12, 1984To the Parent-Teacher Association Moms of Alamo Elementary School:Yes, you may pick your jaws off the squeaky, dusty basketball court hardwood now. Oh, don’t think I didn’t see it all: the eyes flying over to me like a seagull when I opened my mouth to cheer for my lovely daughter singing onstage, the tide of confusion crashing upon your made-up faces, the gulp you had to stifle to paint an expression saltier than San Francisco Bay. Nevertheless, yes, you heard correctly indeed: contrary to what you had pre-conceived of a petite,...

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“The Man Who Walked on Water” by Alexis Araneta

Submitted to Contest #247

No one remembers what it was like to learn to walk. No, in the vast seas of our memory, that formative year right after we are pushed out of our mother's womb is all but submerged, lost like an ill-fated ship at the very bottom where corals dwell. And yet, somehow, in the depths of our core, our muscles recall every single process, could always perfectly stretch out and strain in order to execute the routine of us standing up, lifting a leg, and advancing with one foot in front of the other. Meanwhile, to our conscious, the entire orchestrat...

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“When Love Swings Back” by Alexis Araneta

Submitted to Contest #246

When I sat down on a golden-stained wood park bench, my once-usual one with the backing of wrought iron ivy branches intertwined like amorous bodies in the throes of passion, I never expected a single sight to sucker-punch me in the heart. No, I had no idea that settled down by this cheery playground, I'd observe the convex blooms of daffodil the colour of lemons in clumps on the grass suddenly leaving an acrid burn on my parched tongue, that I'd be powerless as a moment of relaxation in my hometown's pocket park transformed into my own soul...

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“Photographs and Memories” by Alexis Araneta

Submitted to Contest #244

Saturday, 30 March 2024To: ericaclark-steele@gmail.comFrom: david.steele@gmail.comSUBJECT: Photos in Google DriveHi, Honey,I hope you’re doing all right there. Oh goodness I miss you already.I know; I know. You’re going to say I’m being sappy again. If you were here, you’d roll those beautiful sapphire eyes and shake your head at me sighing as I stare at the 20x24 shot mounted in our bedroom of our first dance as a married couple whilst Jim Croce’s “Photographs and Memories” --- the song you always love to hum whilst you work -- plays i...

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“Mother Knows Best” by Alexis Araneta

Submitted to Contest #243

TW: Shades of abuse and control issues, swearingAuthor's note: Written after an eczema flare-up. Hahaha !**Tonight, my baby Allison had me blocked again. It has been exactly the ninth time in her thirty-four years of existence she has jumped in that beat-up cobalt blue Honda Accord (safety alert!) in the middle of the night (safety alert!) and drove almost at the speed limit (GAAAAH !) to the harshly-lit emergency room of her nearest hospital.Believe you me; I tried to stop her, to protest another instance of my girl distancing herself from ...

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“Letters to Margriet” by Alexis Araneta

Submitted to Contest #242

14 February 2019Dear Margriet,Hello!Look, I know you might find this a bit creepy, see this bold action of mine as an enormous scarlet stroke haphazardly brushed onto the pristine white canvas of your consciousness. I’m very sorry, if so. However, I can’t deny what I feel anymore; as much as I try to let it fade, it always bubbles to the surface. Yes, the truth is that ever since I first saw you at the Mauritshuis museum today, took in the chiaroscuro of your soul in those steel grey eyes that sparkled like the most brilliant of jewelry, you...

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“The Hippocratic Oath” by Alexis Araneta

Submitted to Contest #241

TW: Mention of sexual abuse, incest***“With regard to healing the sick, I will devise and order for them the best diet, according to my judgment and means; and I will take care that they suffer no hurt or damage…”I scan the cross-stitched words in the examination room of my clinic, framed in gold and screaming at me in scarlet thread, as I feel the prickle of what feels like a thousand knives at my throat. Five years ago, as I walked across the stage of a packed auditorium to receive a diploma from the medical school and a shiny new prefix t...

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“Yolanda the Thief” by Alexis Araneta

Submitted to Contest #240

7 December 2015My Dearest Alex,Just so you know, I’m writing you this letter in the garden of my new home, the only one on the street with high concrete walls topped with barbed wire that stabs the still air. Part of me is trying to reassure myself that I’m safe within this enclosure. However, I know very well that not even this imposing barricade can protect me from the sea salt and coconut-scented breeze slapping me across the face at this very moment, a gentle whisper of wind that, once upon a time, kissed me as tenderly as you always had...

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“The Smell of White” by Alexis Araneta

Submitted to Contest #239

As Alban Blanchard looked up at the large, white roses falling from the dark, overcast November London skies, --- as he saw the huge, pristine bulbs tumble out of a sky the colour of concrete and the air was filled with a heady perfume --- tears started to stream down his face, much like the floral rain he was underneath. Inside him, the question that had been growing for the past year had finally reached its full bloom.“How come Candace had never once stopped and enjoyed The Smell of White,” Alban whispered, sniffling as flowers starte...

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