Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Short Fiction

The End of Summer
by SuniD
Three friends agree on a day at the zoo to honor the end of summer. Christina’s family has a pass and she says Jeff‘s her cousin to sneak him in. They both have fair skin and blue eyes, so no one suspects. Robbie’s taller with black hair and brown eyes, which makes it obvious he’s not related. He has two weeks’ allowance in his front right pocket to get in and buy ice-cream for him and Christina.
Robbie goes through the line first and grabs a map. Christina shows her cardboard pass to the teller and gets her hand stamped. Jeff pretends to get stuck in the turnstile and people line up behind him wearing disappointed faces. Christina grabs his freckled arm with both hands and pulls. Jeff flies through the gate, crashes into Christina, who bounces off Robbie, and the three friends run away laughing toward the Big Cat exhibit.
Christina watches the Bengal tiger intently. A giant sandpaper tongue glides slowly over a banded thigh. The giant tabby stretches out a front paw and cleans between each toe, taking care with the claws. Robbie yells, “Lazy tiger!” and tries to rile it up. He prefers the anxious panther that needs no provoking. It wants to eat all children, indiscriminately. Jeff likes the playful lynxes, gray and white with long whiskers in each ear, wants to take one home. They may be small, Jeff says, but one could take care of the neighbors’ yappy toy poodle for sure.
The friends talk about where to go next. They look at the feeding times printed on the back of Robbie’s map. Jeff thinks they can make it to the monkeys in ten minutes, but they have to cross Koi Bridge first. They want to stop and feed the monstrous goldfish, which will take time. Robbie wants to see the sharks shred whole sides of beef in two hours, and they all agree. Christina says the sea lions sing for their lunch and it starts in half an hour, so they have time to feed the fish on the way.

Poetry

Burnt Bridge
by SuniD

It is early enough to be late for some.
Stragglers, thugs and bums
Scuttle and huddle in
Island masses.
Torso heaving with thick clouds of life,
I peer over the edge.
The distant ink that swallows everything
Snags my murky mind’s eye.
An old woman and her young boy hurry past
To reach the other side.
A small boat at the base of my post
Smoothly rejects each groping ripple
As the masked current twists in torment,
Like my mettle.
The gondolier puts skilled hands toward his purpose,
Loading precious cargo on his small beam,
Leading pilgrims safely beyond.
He is not swift enough for me.
Softly, I slip into gravity.