ELIJAH SPARKMAN / 2 STORIES
I Wish I Was in New York City
I want to make hate to you in the stairwell. I want it to be out loud and I want it to be our thing and I want it to be in New York City. I want to begin again in New York City in the stairwell to your apartment. Where everything is made of wood. Even the carpet. Even the oven. I want the fire department to hate us. I want to make hate to all the books in New York City. This has never happened before. I want it to be new with you in New York City and I wish it was us and books in the street and our apartment made of wood, even the couch. Even the light. Even the books you wrote that you hate were made out loud in your head out of wood. That’s how I want it to be. Us making hate in the stairwell to your apartment. The window filled with New York City light. That’s why I need to leave where I am so it can be us in a public space having sex to the sound of the fire sirens. Red and blue in the window. I want to hold your head and brush your hair to the side and I want it to be quiet so you can whisper my name in my ear saying I hate you.
The Will Party
Venessa knocked on the red door of Perry’s house. He was hosting a Will Party. He said, “Hello.” The dining room was clean. People piled into the kitchen and dipped vegetables into ranch. There was Mandy, who had a family. Perry clinked a spoon against a vase and cracked it a hair. There was a sound from downstairs, like someone playing video games. There was a picture above the sink, a woman milking a sheep. Perry said, “Welcome, everyone. Nothing matters anymore. It doesn’t even matter that you’re here. I’m not going to say I’m proud of you. I’m not going to say how pleased I am that you’ve chosen to come. There will be a series of events that we will participate in. That is all. Wait for my direction.” No one clapped. Venessa thought about how last weekend, she found a gardening set from the 40s. Trowels with wood-carved handles that looked like mice. Venessa left her bookshelves to her niece and her car to her co-worker, Gerry. She left the garden set to her sister, Veronica. Then, it was time for the drugs. She vomited in Perry’s sink. The woman milking the sheep stared her down, and Venessa noticed in the picture the snake on the ground by the barn. Perry was cordoned off from others. Venessa was afraid everyone at the Will Party was going to have sex. She was afraid that she and Perry wouldn’t. She was afraid Perry was a sick man. She was afraid for Mandy’s family. Venessa sat on the couch, which was covered in plastic. Perry lit candles. He said, “I’m inconsequential.” And every time he lit another candle he said, “You're inconsequential.” Venessa signed her will in her best cursive. Mandy cried after sex. A few others cried after the will signing. The yelling from the video games downstairs let us know that somebody won. On the mantle, a picture of a dog. White teeth. White ears. Black collar. The smell of a homegrown gun.
Elijah Sparkman is a writer from Harper Woods, Michigan. More of his writing is available at https://elijahsparkman.com.