Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program in fiction. His story, “Soon,” was nominated for a Pushcart. Yash’s work is forthcoming or has been published in WestWard Quarterly, Café Lit, 50 Word Stories, (mac)ro (mic), and Ariel Chart.
blue shadows shimmer over snow while I walk weary country road crescent moon whispering white rows of pines broken only by faint lights across distant valleys a goose honks, unseen honking hanging over the blue hush where are you going tonight, goose?
Older sister Nancy and I loved Jell-O, its jiggly form, something light and delightful. While Dad drank and Mother disappeared into the world, we built round mountains and constructed fortresses out of Jell-O blocks. We marveled at our ability to create. To induce beauty, as Nancy put it. Sometimes, we just held it, felt its lightness.
Then Dad took off. He didn’t leave a note. Just bills. We donned oversized suits and responsibility, but not before we destroyed our creations. We stabbed each mountain, each block. We wept, wounding Jell-O with forks. No matter how we tried there were always reminders.