Photo Stories: August 2011

The 100-word pieces to this photo of what appears to be an innocent scene are anything but entirely innocent. Childhood always draws out the complexities of adults.

Tangled ringlets billowed behind her. “Mommy, look!” She bounded towards me, pink pants glowing incandescently. My mouth felt dry. Sweat poured down my back. I stood there with arms extended, legs quivering. I’d only ever dropped acid on lonely weekends when Eva visited her dad. But today was the wrong day: Tuesday. Her long spider legs creaked like rusty bedsprings as she landed on each stone. But my racing heartbeat was louder than the sound of metal spider knees. I last saw her leaping towards the street lamp. Her pink pants burst into flames which created butterfly embers. She disappeared.

–Meir Calloway is a writer, photographer and active yogi. She’s a two-time National Novel-Writing Month “Winner” and will maybe one day probably get around to winning at National Novel-Editing Month.

“Kitty. Kitty. Cat. Cat. Meow!” She does a final half spin, throws her arms up in the air. She sticks the landing with a sassy jut of her hip. “That’s it!” she says. “You have a cat?” I ask. She shakes her head. I hand her a stack of mail, overdue electric bill on top. “How ‘bout bees tomorrow?” She grins, nods and runs toward the house. I think she has my smile. I look up. The curtain flutters. I climb in my truck and wonder if she only talks to me because I keep suckers in the glove box.

–Meg Gore is a dedicated daydreamer and sometimes attempts to put those dreams into words, preferably with a bunny underfoot.

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