It was my freshmen year when we used to sneak off campus to smoke our dad’s cigarettes, we were the last the class before they allowed girls to go to St. Catherine’s so we didn’t have much to do beyond that. My friend Jim, though his mom called him Jimmy always had to borrow one from me because his dad died the last summer of a heart attack and his new step dad didn’t like cigarettes. “He once caught me with a matchbook in my pocket and beat me for a week because of it” he would tell as he’d strike up a match and attempt to light one of my dad’s Winston’s. Continue reading
in this night
you seem to me
to be modest as mud
malleable as molten glass
caked with rich earth
encased in barbed wire
holy offering of surrender
upon this field of primal battle
and as i follow you down
into the depth of your longing
you summit the swollen heights
of our shared pinnacle of pleasure
Adam had procured from the crowded kitchen two Tervis Tumblers and a full bladder of wine––that is, box wine without the box. He held it up like an anesthesiologist preparing an IV. Jane held out the cups for him to administer the pour.
“Remind me again why we’re here,” she said.
“Really? You want to see him more than I do. You practically dragged me.”
Well. She wanted to see him. She couldn’t deny that she wanted to see him. She’d taken her father’s car from the garage without permission, then silenced her phone against his calls just to be there, infractions she’d committed knowing full well what they would cost in terms of basic freedom. She’d viewed the inevitable punishment as a necessary trade-off for her happiness. But the current scene was enough to erode her confidence in the exchange. Summer kids in freshly pressed khakis, sundresses and whale pants had taken over Lucas’s mother’s living room. Lucas was nowhere to be found.
Adam cleared his throat at two Lacoste t-shirts edging into his space. It was a big season for Lacoste, you could already tell.
“I don’t like these kids,” he said.
“You don’t know them,” Jane said, though she secretly shared the sentiment.
“Oh, I know enough. I know what they’ve done. They’re animals.”
It was already happening. The resentful edge Adam got each summer, which swelled and shrank with the population. All islanders had it to some degree. Jane had it. But Adam’s was deep in his bones, passed down from generations.
The Insomniac Propagandist is excited to announce Sleepless Stories! An online space where we will be publishing original content. We’ll begin with a series of stories related to the theme of Volume I: Ruminations of an Expatriate, these are stories of intelligence and passion, and we can’t wait to share them with you. Sleepless Stories goes live TONIGHT at 10:00 PM (EST) on the TIP website (theinsomniacpropagandist.com). Look for new stories weekly! And keep checking in, there will be more exciting developments regarding web content (did someone say writing contest…)!