Jen Ponig

“Terra Linda” by Jen Ponig

Submitted to Contest #90

An army of urbanites march up the platform, and an intrusion of cosmopolites scuttle along side them; all passengers pour onto the train. The doors are about to close and a straggler comes running up the platform. No one seems to see or hear her. People are consumed by their devices and thoughts, and preoccupied with protecting their personal space. The red light flashes above the doors. She might not make it. The last train of the day. A flash of royal blue and a streak of red hair sprint through the closing doors. Being left behind would’v...

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“The Ritual ” by Jen Ponig

Submitted to Contest #85

In this part of the city the fog doesn’t hang around for very long. At dawn the sun comes out and wakes up the neighborhood and brings everyone out of their homes. There are children playing in the park, parents pushing strollers, people waiting for the bus, stoners standing outside the donut shop, and early birds buying fresh produce from the vendedor de frutas. A homeless man is curled up at the entrance of the boarded up old movie theater. He wakes up and stretches his stiff limbs. He holds his face up to the blinding sun and closes his e...

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“Beirut Haunting” by Jen Ponig

Kate called late last night asking if I’d come with her to Beirut to pick up her cat. After the bombing, Kate’s landlord pleaded with her to leave the blown out apartment, until the damage was assessed, repairs were made and the apartment was deemed safe to live in. Kate is intensely independent, so when she asks for any sort of service there’s no hesitation to say, yes, of course I’ll go with you. There was another, inaudible voice, laced with dark curiosity, that said yes for other reasons. I wanted to see Beirut after the blast. I watched...

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“Praying for Rain” by Jen Ponig

Submitted to Contest #53

A long time ago, when bees didn’t have wings, birds didn’t have beaks, and human beings were small and stout, there was a valley in the shadow of a snow capped mountain. They valley used to be verdant and bountiful. All the creatures who lived there had taken advantage of the earth’s beneficence for centuries. They’d forgotten to give praise and thanks to Avikwaame, the mountain spirit, manipulator of seasons and influencer of weather. The mountain spirit took her benevolent hand off the valley and a record breaking heat wave pervaded. Almos...

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“Runner” by Jen Ponig

Submitted to Contest #52

Alex is riding his bike through town making deliveries for the post office. His backpack is heavier than usual; it’s a busy day for Sleepy Hollow. Alex thinks about the destination of his package, and his legs carry him there. His body has memorized the circuitous route of the roads; he leans into his handle bars, digs his left foot down and sails around the corner. His thoughts are beyond the bike and his backpack. He’s got wings on his heels and he’s sailing across the finish line. Coach told him he’ll make varsity this year if he can make...

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“Traveling Solo ” by Jen Ponig

Submitted to Contest #51

George sits on the balcony, looking up at the stars. The city feels empty, but it isn’t. It’s part hospital, part morgue. Those who aren’t sick are in private waiting rooms, alone, held hostage by the invisible illness. Stars, streets, windows, walls, balconies, loneliness, solidarity: the thread that connects people in this northern Italian city. The night time ritual has begun. Neighbors go out on to their balconies and hold up their glasses, bottles, coffee cups and cigarettes for a communal brindisi. Silent night. Holy night. George wond...

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“Christmas at The Inn” by Jen Ponig

Submitted to Contest #21

‘Tis the season to be jolly, but we are not, not in the least. Our country has been pulled inside out. Wages have been cut in half. Businesses like mine suffer. Many people have locked their shops and restaurants because there are no patrons, or from fear of thieves. The banks have closed their cold doors. The hospitals and orphanages are too full to open theirs. Beggar children have multiplied in the streets during the day. Gangs of thugs patrol them at night. The spirit of Christmas is obscured by the hunger in our bellies. The Inn si...

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“A Stranger Side of Me” by Jen Ponig

Submitted to Contest #20

When I woke up this morning, it was still dark outside. I had stayed up late studying for finals. It was close to 2am when I went to bed. I felt as though I hardly slept at all. Mom was in the kitchen preparing coffee, and making a lot of noise doing it. I pushed the kitchen door open and found mom, in her robe and slippers, talking to a stranger in baggy pajamas. The stranger was emptying a sachet of Nescafé 3 in 1 into my hot chocolate mug. My first thought was about the mug. Why would mom let this stranger use my mug? On second thought, I...

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