Daphne Pope

“Dreamers” by Daphne Pope

Wake up. Look at your alarm clock. Groan. Roll out of bed. Dress for work. Drop your kids at school. Work. Pick them up. Eat. Go to bed. Sound familiar at all?            At Headquarters, we call it the Fake Cycle. The Fake Cycle is all to do with feelings. When you complete the Fake Cycle, you feel accomplished, but you’re not. You think you’re happy, but you aren’t. Because the Fake Cycle is just that- fake.            When was th...

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“I'm Not Afraid to Die” by Daphne Pope

Submitted to Contest #105

Dear God,            Today, at school, Sydney Williams told me that my hair looked like a red Indian’s. I wasn’t offended, but Master Klyde took her to the principal’s office and she had to sit in detention all afternoon. I didn’t feel so bad for her until her mother got there. She looked quite angry. Also, God, I must apologize. Raymond gave Caroline a haircut and, I’m sorry, Lord, but I’m afraid I couldn’t control my laughter when she walked out of the bathroom this morning, all uneve...

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“Fritz and Annie” by Daphne Pope

Submitted to Contest #96

Fritz was so close. He was inches from the mouse’s whiskers, waiting for the right opportunity to seize its tail. He made a sudden grab, but the mouse squeaked and began scurrying away through the corn plants in the wide fields of the town of Hitchcock. Fritz hastened after the rodent, crawling on his hands and knees. He couldn’t see it anywhere. He looked about in vain.          “Are you Fritz Williams?” a voice from above startled him. He looked up. A small, blonde girl with freckles, blue eyes,...

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“The Clockmaker's Daughter” by Daphne Pope

Submitted to Contest #74

BONG. The clock awoke a small child curled up in the corner of a dark, damp, musty room. The girl stretched and yawned, then began to look about her. Finding the cause of her search, she retrieved a piece of chalk from the rotting floorboard next to her and turned to the wall.            The wall was covered up and down with tally marks as far as the eye could see. On the far-left side, the girl had written CENTURY, under which there were nineteen chalk marks. Below the CENTURY marks, D...

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“A Whole New World” by Daphne Pope

1. “Illeia? Oh, darling little one, you’ve grown! Come in, come in, we’re so happy to have you here.” Marcia Woodhouse stepped aside to allow inside a petite teenager with shoulder-length, blonde hair, pretty green eyes and arms full of luggage. The girl looked timidly around at the foyer, taking in everything with her deep eyes.      Mrs. Woodhouse shut the door and turned to the bottom of the stairs. “Calling all Woodhouses!”      Illeia gasped as a rumbling and banging was heard upstai...

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“From the Window” by Daphne Pope

Submitted to Contest #59

           You can’t watch the sunrise from my window, but you can just see the sun peeking over the skyscrapers of 52nd Street in New York City. Below, the pavement was crowded— as it always was. People walked down the dirty, dusty sidewalks, dodging taxis and eating breakfast on their way to work. A young woman was fighting with an old man in the middle of a street over who had flagged the taxi first. Other taxis honked, and their drivers screamed obscene words from their vehicles. On ...

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“Happily Ever After” by Daphne Pope

Submitted to Contest #59

When I was a little girl, my favorite story was Cinderella. My daddy used to tell it to me when I went to bed, always doing the voices of the wicked stepmother and ugly stepsisters. But my mother used to come in and turn out the light, yelling, “There is no such thing as ‘happily ever after’! And, certainly no Prince Charming!” Then would begin one of their many fights. And I would hide under my blanket, burying my face in my pillow, and promising myself that I would find Prince Charming. For me, there would be “happily ever after.” *** &nbs...

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“Conspiracy” by Daphne Pope

Submitted to Contest #55

  Nell Armstrong. That’s what he was called. The kids at school always asked him, “Is your real name Neil? Are you named after Neil Armstrong?” And his answer stayed the same. “No, I’m not.” Then, of course, there had to be a follow-up: “Are you related to him?”          He could lie. But someone else would come along and contradict him. So, he was forced to tell the truth. “Yes, he was my grandfather.”          Then they would all gas...

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“The Second Treatment” by Daphne Pope

Submitted to Contest #52

I awoke, panting, cold sweat trickling down my face. It was the dream again. The old dream. The one that never left. The empty parking lot, the dark road, Gracie’s face. And Jonathan. I looked at the clock. 4:30, I thought, Two hours and two years ago today, Gracie was- no, I can’t dwell on it. I couldn’t be helped- not then, not now. Knowing that sleep was no longer possible, I arose and dressed. After pulling my hair into its usual ponytail, I quietly slipped out of my room and crept cautiously down the hallway, determined to not wake Mo...

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