*The Future of Wallpaper* Christopher Jug George

His summer-brown smile haunts me. I sense him now, unlike before, he is closer to me. He is gone.

Month: September, 2018

Warm Thanksgiving

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Warm Thanksgiving

I stared at the towering sunset when all the hope in the world still existed about us. Twelve-hundred miles apart, we texted throughout the afternoon and evening. The inevitable and the want. (Ping) I know you will be here someday with me. (Ping) I will be. It may have been our penultimate holiday. But the robots must have turned against us, or the spaceships descended and only took you. Perhaps you joined a circus or one of us got swept off a talent show stage with a black cane followed by a man with a broom.

Thanksgiving was so warm that year, nieces, nephews, and dogs strewed about the green and brown grass of the front yard. We all were in short sleeves looking at that orange glow behind the neighbor’s house. A large orb of light sitting in their backyard, tangible, as if we could touch it. I still gaze at that sunset from afar while I continually fail to get to other worlds to see what dusk is like there.

Because My Daughter Loves the Fall

Because My Daughter Loves the Fall

Evening walks with my daughter have turned eerie in the autumn. The other night we became bewildered on shadowy Summit Avenue. The songbirds were singing dark, twisted songs. Crows swayed on branches in the trees prodding them on. The chorus of chirps contained no sweetness but foreboding and suggestion. They led us to a windy road on a steep hill lined with misshaped houses that grew in peculiarity the further sideways and down we went. Odd noises emanated from the twilight below, calling to us, confusion was feeling permanent when Lucy spotted a child who motioned us to follow her out of the darkness. The little girl ran through tree trunks and cast iron fences as we paced beside her. Long stem flowers whisked through her body and looked striking on her ghostly face, much like a leaf adrift in midair, not quite to the ground, on its fall.

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