I.M. Carney

“The Community Pot of Ideas and Why I’ll Never be Original” by I.M. Carney

Submitted to Contest #158

The sound of the kettle whistling in the kitchen interrupted Bonnie’s lecture to me on the ever-depressing state of my self-confidence. Her long, floral bathrobe floated behind her as she disappeared into the kitchen. I wrapped my legs under the knitted blue blanket on her couch and glanced lazily at all the trinkets she collected from decades of travel; a green, cloisonné vase from a flea market in Arles, a tapestry fr...

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“I Eat the Sun” by I.M. Carney

Submitted to Contest #150

Have you ever wondered what the sun tastes like? I’ll tell you. It’s like sipping a hot cup of chamomile through a straw; warm, mild, inviting. I’ve been eating the sun for seventeen years. I eat it on my morning walk through my neighborhood, by my east-facing office window, and in the car as I drive home. A sunset is the most delicious if you can catch a good one. The more colors, the better. Orange adds tang and purpl...

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“Diane and the Upstairs Wife” by I.M. Carney

Submitted to Contest #148

[Warning: domestic violence] Diane was surprised to find that the only thing she hated more than a pan filled with oil left on the stove by her roommate or the toilet paper roll left empty was living alone and finding every evening when she returned home from a long day of selling over-priced sneakers to stuck-up college students that no one, not even her gaudy roommate who was always late on paying rent, was th...

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“INVISIBLE” by I.M. Carney

Submitted to Contest #147

The moment winter break ended, all kids could talk about was the summer. It didn’t matter if ice was still stuck to the school bus benches or snow filled their shoes as they walked home, they talked about summer like it was just around the corner. I never shared their excitement. I liked school and I liked being busy. Summer meant empty days of sitting in front of the fan in the living room and swatting away mosquitoes ...

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“Sincerely, You (Us?)” by I.M. Carney

It was Harper’s day off from work and, like every week, she spent it tucked in the back corner of the library reading old copies of the magazine Amazing Stories. That day she was engrossed in a story titled “The Girl Who Loved Death.” Rather self-consciously, she hid the front page of the magazine behind her bag, as it depicted a miniature, naked woman being pried at by a menacing man in a lab coat who she coul...

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“The Heartbreak Cardigan” by I.M. Carney

Submitted to Contest #145

“Ethel? Are you home?” Marjorie called as she threw off her wet shoes by the door. No longer able to handle the frigid, Cincinnati rain, her umbrella had called it quits halfway through her walk back home. She peeled off her drenched blazer and threw it next to her shoes. Marjorie hated this city and missed the sunny beaches of San Diego she had grown so fond of.  “In the living room, Marj!” Ethel called back. E...

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