Allen the Ferocious winced as hot wax dribbled down his fingers. He switched hands and proceeded with the chant, but the wax soon oozed down his other hand, onto his wrist. The shop girl never said anything about this, only that black candles were super sexy. And he believed her.
He jumped when wax landed on his toes, bumping the offering table. A chicken’s foot rolled off.
“It’s fine,” he reassured himself. “No one sees this part.” He bent to pick it up, and the candle went out.
In darkness he knelt, searching for the chicken’s foot. He refused to cry.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
Fiction 101: Thicker than Water, by Mike Peterson
Max didn’t know Dax was a swamp monster. Dax didn’t even know it. Their dad had suspected it, but he was curious to see how it would all play out.
As Max descended the spiral staircase for breakfast, he felt Dax’s teeth sink into his Achilles tendon. Max wailed in pain, but mostly he wailed for justice. Mom intervened. A time-out was issued. Band-aids were applied.
Max finished his Cocoa Puffs and yelled, “Last one in the pool is donkey drool!” He slapped Dax’s forehead and darted out the door.
Dax waited before following. He patted his growling stomach and smiled.
As Max descended the spiral staircase for breakfast, he felt Dax’s teeth sink into his Achilles tendon. Max wailed in pain, but mostly he wailed for justice. Mom intervened. A time-out was issued. Band-aids were applied.
Max finished his Cocoa Puffs and yelled, “Last one in the pool is donkey drool!” He slapped Dax’s forehead and darted out the door.
Dax waited before following. He patted his growling stomach and smiled.
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