May 2011
2 posts
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The Skin Thief: 5.3
After losing his previous body on the school bus, Fell had been set adrift. Without flesh to anchor him, even a light breeze was like a Kansas tornado. He had drifted for nearly two days before getting swept into the intake vent above a gas station bathroom. Fearful of being blown back out into the wind, Fell hid himself in the one vessel the empty bathroom provided.
Waiting in that toilet was...
April 2011
17 posts
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THE SKIN THIEF: 5.2
Black Water wasn’t yet awake. Dawn’s glow was only just seeping into the sidewalks. The streetlights were still burning.
They arrived at Ernie Redding’s apartment building. It looked exactly as he remembered it from the bus driver’s memories.
Max’s body let out an exhausted sigh of relief.
(We’ll rest here.)
As remarkable as the new body was, a hundred miles of continuous walking was a hundred...
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THE SKIN THIEF: 5.1
This new body was a marvel. It was sturdy and powerful. The heart that powered it did not beat so much as thunder, pushing blood out to each limb in steady, wondrous cycles of warmth. Every breath he took felt like a blacksmith’s bellows, expanding and compressing, inhaling life in great gulps and exhaling hot plumes of malice. It was nothing like the bloated man sack he’d been wearing when he...
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APRIL FOOL'S DAY: 4.2
“Good evening, madam. My name is Kristof Whirling.” Olivia recognized the voice immediately. Standing on the front porch was the tiny bearded man from the moving truck. He stood no higher than her mom’s waist and her mom’s waist stood no higher than anything. She was a short woman. A short woman who towered over this very tiny man. But he cleans up nicely, Olivia thought. Gone were the blue...
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APRIL FOOL'S DAY: 4.1
Olivia wasn’t sure how long her mom had been standing there. After school, she’d plodded up to her room, put in her ear buds, and zoned out while halfway reading Ender’s Game (for the third time). Somewhere between a Jack Johnson track and Ender becoming the youngest commander in Battle School history, Olivia noticed her mom hovering in the doorway. She mouthed something that looked like Do you...
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INTERLUDE: "Pit Stop"
Randy saw the guy coming from a mile away.
Literally.
With nothing but dying grass spread out for miles, Randy had a clear line of sight. A huge man walking down the only road that serviced this area. The guy was massive. Shoulders so wide they blocked the sun as it set behind him. Maybe one of those buses that went by earlier had been full of football players on their way to a game. Maybe...
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THEN THINGS GOT REALLY WEIRD: 3.5
Olivia waited on a bench outside of Mrs. Serpa’s office, certain that any chance at Harvard had evaporated the moment Bristol opened her locker.
She’d never been sent to the Principal’s office before. She’d seen other kids go. Bryce Tanner was there so regular he’d gotten into the habit of leaving his lunch box at Mrs. Wangle’s desk first thing in the morning. But not Olivia. Mr....
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THEN THINGS GOT REALLY WEIRD: 3.4
The sixth grade hall was empty.
Olivia loved having it to herself, listening to her Chucks slap against the linoleum and then slapslapslap away on an echo. It made her feel like she was walking the hall of a great lost temple. Perfectly preserved. Perfectly silent. But she knew it wouldn’t last long. In less than five minutes, the period would come to an end and all the classroom doors would open...
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THEN THINGS GOT REALLY WEIRD: 3.3
Olivia stood in the hall outside of the school’s main office, unsure of what to do next. This late, there was no doubt that Taranow had marked her absent. She’d probably been whistling while scratching an “X” next to Olivia’s name.
At Black Water, if a student missed homeroom, they had to report to the main office with a note or a parent. Olivia had neither of those. All she had was a morning...
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Then Things Got Really Weird: 3.2
Olivia opened her eyes and stared up into a collage of sky and leaves. She felt the earth beneath her back. Long blades of grass poked her ears.
Okay. Now, this makes sense. Must’ve been riding my bike and crashed into a tree. Cracked my head so hard I blacked out. That explains the bus ride. That explains the thing that wasn’t Mr. Redding. The frogs.
But it didn’t explain why Amani was sitting...
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Then Things Got Really Weird: 3.1
Mr. Redding didn’t say anything when Olivia introduced Amani as the newest addition to the Elm Avenue bus stop. He just stared straight ahead. Well, Olivia assumed he was staring straight ahead.
It was hard to be certain because he was sporting a pair of thick black wrap-around sunglasses.
Mr. Redding’s breathing sounded odd. It came in quick short grunts.
He’s not doing well, Olivia...
March 2011
9 posts
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March Showers: 2.3
The next morning, Olivia woke and listened for her mother. She didn’t hear any of the usual routine. No cabinet doors opening and closing. No New Edition blaring from the big iPod speakers Olivia had bought her the previous Christmas. No coffee grinding.
She tiptoed down the hall and put an ear against the bedroom door. Nothing. She thought about knocking but then her mom might answer and what...
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March Showers: 2.2
Olivia loved the smell of green tea. She brought her face close to the edge of the cup and breathed deep. Warm aromatic clouds of deliciousness curled against her skin, gently nudging her cheeks into a smile before wafting up into the frizzy curls of her hair.
They drank their first cup in silence.
Her mother was two years old when her parents migrated from the Philippines. They’d both...
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March Showers: 2.1
They’d lived at 179 Elm Avenue her entire life. While that seemed like a long time to Olivia, her mother apparently had several pairs of jeans in the back of her closet that would disagree. Especially during arguments over what she was or wasn’t old enough to do. “Acid wash,” her mom would whisper in disgust. Then she’d pretend to shudder and gag until Olivia either...
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March Showers: 2.1
They’d lived at 179 Elm Avenue her entire life. While that seemed like a long time to Olivia, her mother apparently had several pairs of jeans in the back of her closet that would disagree. Especially during arguments over what she was or wasn’t old enough to do. “Acid wash,” her mom would whisper in disgust. Then she’d pretend to shudder and gag until Olivia either abandoned her argument or...
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INTERLUDE: Ernie's Last Day
Ernie Redding died that Monday but his body didn’t realize it until the next afternoon.
For Ernie, Mondays were the start of the big, grey clunking machine that he called life. He woke up early and fell onto the morning conveyor belt, showering, shaving and shoveling down some Frankenberry cereal while the rest of the world still lie snoring. Sometimes, between mouthfuls of sweet pink...
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First Period: 1.3
Amani’s skin was cinnamon and her hair a thick, black curl of cotton. Perfectly tangled, like ivy or grape vines growing up toward the sun. She wore a long denim skirt quilted together with bright patches. The skirt had splits up the front and back that stopped just above her knees. The splits let her climb trees and squat in the branches. She wore rainbow striped knee socks, set to clash...
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First Period: 1.2
All the doors leading out of South Blackwater Middle School were open. Teachers did their best to keep the students quiet as they exited the building in single file but there was a constant murmur. With nearly eight hundred kids pouring into the school’s parking lot, the murmur roiled into white water rapid feedback. It’s way too cold for fire drills. Were you online last night? Would’ve been sooo...
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First Period: 1.1
Olivia Chance sat at the back of the classroom silently wishing for an extinction level event. Nothing fancy. A planet killing rock the size of Paraguay would be fine.
“The board awaits, Miss Chance.”
Someone tried to hold back a snicker. But then didn’t.
It was maybe three or four months into the school year before Olivia realized that her teacher had twisted her name into a class joke. It...
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A PLEA FROM J. VEGA: I need help. I really do. And what I need help with is going to sound a little odd. I need peer pressure. I need an audience and I need that audience to expect a regular performance from me, right here, in this space and to hold me accountable if I don’t deliver. What am I supposed to deliver? A story. A novel. It’s called Bottled and it’s about… well,...
