Our 2005 fiction contest winner, "Seedlings" by Helyn Wohlwend of Cobble Hill, BC. I get too excited about spring. That’s what Peter says. “Lila, you just get too excited about spring.” But he smiles when he says it, so I know he doesn’t really mind. And, of course,...
In Arabic, her father put questions to the old man. Whether these were advice seeking, or advice giving, Safia could not be sure. She never came to understand what her grandfather wanted from any of them. In Arabic, her father put questions to the old man. Whether...
As she sails over the barbed wire fence, a hot dry wind behind her, the cow thinks of birds. How useful wings might be at a time like this. Her spindly legs crumple and pink udders squash as the round of her girth meets the hard of the ground. Parched weeds prickle...
I think I smell like alcohol. I’m sitting, eating a doughnut and thinking about last night. I wonder if my liver is O.K.; if I keep this up, I’ll kill myself. No, if I keep this up, I’ll become my mother. I think I smell like alcohol. I’m sitting, eating a doughnut...
Slivers of cut grass stick to my calves and hands. Sweat soaks my bra. I am sweating. Not glowing, as Mom calls it. Sweating. I want the dirt, the remains of our lawn, off me. It hasn’t been mowed in months and is taking over what little landscaping we have. No one...