Jessica C

“Elegy” by Jessica C

Submitted to Contest #69

It’s not going to be like before.It’s nothing but a stupid, meaningless mantra that shatters against your reflection in the bathroom mirror each morning as you hold the razor to your cheek and wonder what if. You don’t look like you anymore because you’re not you anymore. Sometime not so long ago you started your descent into the unseen void, little by little, and sometime not so long from now you will disappear completely. Not that it matters. The world is burning, and we’re all headed to Hell together. Or so you’ve been...

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“Happy Halloween, Mayor Brown!” by Jessica C

Submitted to Contest #65

The first notice went up on the public bulletin board in the front of Himmelreich’s Hardware store on Willow Street on the first day of October.   By order of Mayor Stephenson Brown, Orchard Grove Community Trick or Treat Night will commence on October 31st from 6-8pm.   Underneath the blocky bubble letters was a crude, childlike drawing of a jack-o-lantern, which gave the whole thing such a decidedly unofficial look that most people wondered if it was just a prank. And then Mayor Brown himself  went on the KLTV Ne...

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“Hero” by Jessica C

Submitted to Contest #61

Pappy died on a Sunday morning in September, and by Wednesday, Mama’d buried him in the little graveyard on the south side of the property like he’d wanted. Everybody expected it. Pappy’d had the bad kind of cancer; the one that gets you fast and spreads everywhere and then it’s too late. He hung on for a bit, probably for Mama’s sake, but towards the end when Mama stopped fussin’ at him and jumpin’ around the house like a fart in a mitten, he musta felt at peace enough to let go.  It’s late Friday night when I finally get here, and I’...

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“Fall” by Jessica C

Submitted to Contest #60

When she was six years old, Sunny Newsome watched a man die. She had just snatched five bucks from Ma’s straw purse and was hiding behind the pork barbecue truck when it happened. He dropped right there on the carnival midway in front of the World Famous Elephant Ears stall, and for a split second the world stopped. And then a crowd began to form around the dying man, and that crowd collectively stared while he sort of flopped around at their feet. Finally a woman stepped forward to help, but by then it was probably too late.  And ...

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“2:47 AM” by Jessica C

Submitted to Contest #58

Trigger Warning: Suicide   “Ma! Mother! Hey, Ma!” Ellie yells to me from the bottom of the bleachers where she’s standing with a few of the older girls from the squad. She stamps her foot on the pavement, hands on hips, ponytail swinging and face scrunched into a red-cheeked grimace of teenage frustration that she inherited from me. I slowly weave through the dispersing crowd towards my daughter. It had been a terrible game. This will be the third loss in a row for our boys, and the disappointment in the crisp e...

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“Stalemate” by Jessica C

Submitted to Contest #55

He calls for the last time on a Sunday night in late September. His voice is soft and slurred, and before he asks I tell him that I’m not coming this time. But we both know it’s a lie. So I pull myself together as I have done many, many times before, and I drive through a chilly rain to our old spot.  He’s already in our booth; ghostly, half asleep and tapping his lucky blue lighter against the Formica.  “This is the last time,” I say as I slide across from him.  “We’ll see.”  His smile is still my undoing.   ...

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“Capital S, All Italics.” by Jessica C

Submitted to Contest #55

There is no greater punishment for a life lived poorly than having to move to the suburbs. I believe Socrates said that. Or maybe it was one of the Kardashians.  I don’t quite remember.  What I do know is that we have been living in this neighborhood for 336 hours, and I am convinced that I must have done terrible, unspeakable things in a past life to deserve this torture; this Saab-driving, dinner party-hosting, PTA-fundraising torture. The Suburbs (capital S, all italics, said in a nasally whine) is where corporate careers and fo...

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“When the Dark Things Come” by Jessica C

Submitted to Contest #54

The sun isn’t even awake yet, but she’s already a failure. It’s the formula this time.  She mixes the powder and water and realizes too late that she has grabbed a bottle from the dirty side of the sink. She has to start again.  As she dumps it, she does the quick math in her head; 29.5 ounces in the can.  The can was $34.99.  2 ounces in the bottle. How much money per ounce? It doesn’t matter.  It’s liquid money oozing down the drain.  Money that they hadn’t planned for and definitely didn’t have to spare.&nbs...

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“Jonathan” by Jessica C

Submitted to Contest #53

Jonathan Dryden’s red popsicle was melting. It dripped through his fat fingers, and when he wiped them on the front of his faded old tee shirt it looked like blood streaks. Jonathan probably did that on purpose, though. Jonathan always did weird stuff like that.  “Tell them the werewolf story, Jonathan,” said snotty little Randy Bates, who had been following Jonathan around for most of the summer. “Jonathan saw a werewolf last year, guys.” Jonathan smirked and puffed out his chest a little bit as he tossed his popsicle ...

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“Summer Cousins” by Jessica C

Submitted to Contest #53

There was magic in the lake.Grammy told me that. Of course, Grammy was a bit magic herself. Every year on the last day of summer, Grammy packed her picnic hamper, and together we’d carry it down to the old dock where the reeds were thin and the ducks liked to gather. We’d sit for hours with our feet dangling in the water, just Grammy and me, because I was the oldest and (I suspected), that made me the favorite. We’d eat cheese sandwiches wrapped in crinkled brown paper and thick slices of Great Aunt Millie’s angel food cake, which Gramm...

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“22” by Jessica C

Submitted to Contest #52

“So what exactly do you want?” It is, of course, a loaded question.  The list of things I want is long and complicated.  I want to go back in time to when our lives didn’t revolve around the great and terrible WE. WE are so excited for Christmas.  WE are hosting game night.  WE love Grey’s Anatomy.   I want the girl that lived above the 8th street laundromat and cooked terrible Indian dishes and had actual feelings and independent thoughts and a unique personality and didn’t care about linens or flowers or types of...

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“Buddy” by Jessica C

Blaine Lucas hates tourists. He hates their excited smiles and sweat-stained tee shirts and patchy sunburns and the way they always balance things- luggage, shopping bags, children- when they approach the check-in desk. He hates their constant needs…I NEED a nonsmoking room, I NEED more towels, I NEED turn-down service. And he especially hates it when they say moronic lines like…"Hey fella, got a room for us?"A classic. Mid-forties, Blaine guesses, with a balding head and rumpled clothing. Probably good looking long ago before the wife ...

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“Love, X” by Jessica C

Submitted to Contest #36

Jan 28 1986Dear Diary, Mommy and Daddy gived me this diary for my birthday yesterday!  I am 7 now! I had my birthday party and everyone came but Sammy L.  Mommy said that he was sick but I don’t care because he called me the B word at gym class and that’s a bad word so I don’t like him anyway.  Dana gived me a Get In Shape Girl ribbon and a book just like hers. It’s my favorite present because I want to be a ballet dancer when I grow up. Today at school we watched TV!  I didn’t know they let us watch TV at school! Mrs. B...

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“Sunday Dinner” by Jessica C

Submitted to Contest #31

“It smells a little burned, babe.”She sighs. It’s louder than she intended, but she can’t help it. He doesn’t seem to notice.“It’s not burning.”She hears the oven door open behind her, because of course he has to see for himself. She can feel the dry heat radiating throughout the small kitchen; buttery, smokey scents of rosemary and grease coming with it.  “It looks a little burned, babe.”“It’s not. Please close the oven door.”  “She says it’s not burning, Ma!” She hears the distinct crack of the Coors...

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“The First Wedding” by Jessica C

Submitted to Contest #28

I can’t remember his name. Most of the minor details, yes. Her dress (beautifully cut satin but much too shiny to be elegant), the bouquet (pink and white roses, even though she was slightly allergic), the church (which still smelled tragically like moth balls, despite her mother’s best efforts to air the place out the night before).But I can’t recall the groom’s name. Donnie maybe? Ronnie? I know that in those years there was definitely a Ronnie and a Donnie, but I don’t know which was the groom. I am tempted t...

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