Tag Archives: basement

Five Days. Five Nights.

Noah J. was so kind to narrate this story. You can listen and read along:

This story was also translated to Polish.


The first four days Lachlan had been excited. The fifth day, that Friday that he came back from primary school with dirt on his knees, he was not excited. He was euphoric.

I was in my office, writing the final formulaic words of another research proposal.

“Daaad!”

“Hey!”

“Dad! Dad! Dad!”

“Oh wow, someone is happy. Enjoyed school?”

“School is awesome!”

“That’s great!”

“And I have loads of friends!”

“Of course you do.”

“Look!”

He stretched his small, dirty hand towards me.

“You cut yourself?”

“No.”

“That looks like a cut.”

“It’s a talesman.” Continue reading

Phone Call from a Forgotten Friend

I sat on the bus when my phone buzzed. Naomi. It took me nearly a minute to fit a face to the name. How long had it been? Ten years?

Hey. Long time no see! Remember how we used to do sleepovers? I’d love to meet up.

I sat and stared at the phone, thinking of the time in school. Trying desperately to remember whether we ever actually had a sleepover.

Half an hour later, just when I arrived home, her next text came.

Hey. I’m not sure if you still use this number. Could you reply? I’d really like to talk quickly.

Five minutes later Naomi called. I had the phone in my hand but let it ring another three times before I picked up.

“Hey,” she said. “How are you?”

“Good. How are you? What’s up?”

“Oh, I’m good too. Excellent. Everything is great. I just missed you.” Continue reading

The Knife is Still in My Lap

I sit here shivering with my back against the wall. The knife is still in my lap. I can’t even leave this room. I just don’t know what to do anymore.

It was all because I flunked school. Fuck school. Lock kids into a tiny and smelly room in the best time of their life. And then make sure every small mistake determines their future. A gray and brown building filled with incompetent teachers and kids so horribly raised that not just them but also their parents deserve a good spanking.

That’s why I flunked. I couldn’t go there. I couldn’t stand the incompetence and the boring, dull, dragging hours on broken chairs. I felt my heart clench whenever I just so much as looked at the front door. So I didn’t go. And look where that got me. Continue reading