by Elyce | Oct 21, 2022 | stories
He walks to the pulpit with a slight limp; his foot is sore and the pain in his lower back flared while he was sleeping.
“Good morning, friends.” His arms spread in a wing-like way. “Today is a brand new day, a gift from God, a gift for us. Let us celebrate a new day together. Please join me in prayer.” Friar Sammie Stabby suddenly coughs with a palpable thunder; his hand grasps for his chest. There is a whir of concern from his parishioners, but in moments, he’s recovered. “Just my asthma, friends. Apologies for the alarm. God is just reminding me to be grateful for each breath I take.” His smile glows over the congregation.
Friar Sammie Stabby from Leicester is 68 years old, and he has been sharing the word of God for 40 of them. Every Sunday, in a long brown robe and a long silver cross, he climbs to the pulpit to preach.
“Lord Jesus, thank you. You provided the sun that brightens our morning and the very foundation on which we walk. We thank you for sharing your love with us today and every day.”
At 12:30 after the Sunday service, he locks the doors of the church and begins a trudging journey home, with his foot lagging a step behind. Sammie holds his back. It’s ached for years, and the years feel like too many.
A black cat, Guacamole, greets him at the door, sliding and purring. “Hi there, Guacky boy. It’s another day, isn’t it? It’s another bloody day.”
When Sammie Stabby woke up that morning, it was with a biting sadness. To the electronic chime of his alarm, he flung himself forward. “Jesus Christ, God forsaken fuck,” he stammered. “For the fucking sake of heaven, how can it be morning already? Holy goddamn, Guacamole.”
Sammie pads his way to the kitchen, sunlight sweeping in through the window, and the warmth of it sears his eyes. He is blinded; Sammie doesn’t notice the morning’s glory or the soft heat on his arms.
Guacamole rounds Sammie’s ankles, purring. “It’s a strain, isn’t it, Guac?” Sammie says, looking down at his feet. “Can hardly breathe a breath of heaven anymore. But, God deals us a fair hand, doesn’t he?”
The coffee maker hisses, then spurts liquid into Sammie’s mug. “You know, my hand could be a bit fucking nicer, if I’m honest. This isn’t exactly the ballroom life I imagined. More like a goddamn circus. This coffee tastes like dirt. This whole life is just dirt. Everything but you, Guacky boy. Everything but you.”
by Elyce | Apr 5, 2022 | bad boyfriend
Vincent was alone in his study. A lamp hung in the corner, casting light onto the floorboards. It was raining.
His paper-strewn desk, stoic and heavy in the cold room, caught only a glimpse of the lamp’s glow. Vincent paced restlessly. The night had grown so long already and he had come up with nothing. He scratched his head and then his neck, as though to jolt some idea to life. He poured wine, his hand shaking so much that he spilled large drops onto his serving tray.
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by Elyce | Mar 18, 2022 | winter
We have a fat fish
Right now
he is wedged under a piece of pretend wood
at the bottom of his aquarium
His extremely tiny mouth is opening like
a heart valve, again and again and again
In a rhythm making life happen
I’m waiting for him to die
Because he’s not really fat
He’s actually sick
About a week ago our other fish,
the one who had a crooked back,
floated to the top of the water
and didn’t move his mouth anymore
Then this guy just puffed up
His body, his stomach, has stretched out
Like a ball of sad is stuck inside
Before this, he swam around
Now he stays in one place,
either at the top of the tank
or down in the fake flora
I just went to look at him
At this moment, he’s resting on the rocks
Tail and fins still as a skyline
Only the mouth moving, opening, opening, opening
He looks like a horror movie
When his friend died,
I looked into the tank and saw
that the eyes had gone white
Cloudy
The little gills weren’t pulsing
So I scooped him out with a ladle
and buried him under the maple tree outside
After I put the dirt on,
I was afraid he wasn’t ready,
so I dug him back up
To make sure he was fully finished
He didn’t move
He was covered in soil
I buried him again
Poured some water on the tree
Told him he was a really good fish
Oh my god
I just checked on our fat fish again
He’s caught in the plastic fern branches
The little mouth is panting still
His black eyes are enormous,
glossy and half silver and pleading
I drew a heart for him on the glass
Where he is facing
Now I will wait with him
Play music as the night goes on
Because I think tomorrow he will not hear it
I will bury him at the maple tree too
by Elyce | Mar 18, 2022 | bad boyfriend
Her face is like a paper bag. It’s a face you see behind a cash register, mechanically pushing numbers and counting quarters and always reminding you to “have a wonderful day.” Her paper bag face has that standard red writing, something like “Come see us again soon” or “Join our membership rewards program.” Like you see it, and also don’t see it at all. So, I call her Paper Bag.
Anyway, Paper Bag is asked to restock the shampoo and it is a task she knows she will master. She has a plan for the shampoo so that the prettiest ones will be right in the center. She has on her red “I Work Here” vest and brings all the boxes of shampoo over to the shampoo aisle. This will be a masterpiece.
There are customers in the store and even though they don’t see her, they like that she is making her task into something pleasing. They will appreciate that all of the bottles line up.
“Oh, hello, ma’am,” says a customer. “Can you help me find diapers?” She looks up from her boxes. She knows exactly where the diapers are. “I can!” This is gleeful. “How is your day, sir? You’re going to want to head over towards the laundry and pet food. Right over here.” She does a little point with her finger to show him just where to go.
The customer watches her and then he feels better. “Oh, right here! Thank you, ma’am.” She does a little swivel and heads back to the shampoo.
This customer is also forgettable. He is also a paper bag. But in this moment he is not. He is brighter. He is now cheered by this girl in a red vest. He swivels in her direction and thanks her again. “I appreciate it!” he says and now he knows that he will have diapers and this will postpone an argument with his wife.
Paper Bag spends two hours arranging the shampoo. Her manager is slightly stunned at how she has taken on this assignment. Maybe Paper Bag should arrange the makeup tomorrow. Her manager now feels more pride wearing her manager-red vest. Maybe she is a good manager, seeing the potential in her employees.
Paper Bag knows she is doing a good job with the shampoo. She is maybe the best paper bag in the store. Next time when this manager sees her, and the next time a customer comes in looking for diapers, Paper Bag will look different. She will have redefined paper bags.
by Elyce | Feb 20, 2022 | bad boyfriend
On the second floor of the house, up the stairs, to the left, and through the double doors, there was an enormous closet. Gigantic in size. Like a hotel room. Even if you stood with your arms straight out to your sides with double twirling batons in both hands you wouldn’t you be close to the walls. They would be a dozen double batons away. Every time I walked into the closet, I felt like the whole world must be so much bigger than I realized. If a room like this could be made just for shoes and dresses and custom watches, what else were people creating? Limitless possibility. I would stand at the entryway and forget where I was going.
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