• New short fiction, every week.
    The words you know and love . . .
    in a totally different order.

  • 1. Cricket Hymn

    By Thad DeVassie

    Our second year
    begins in a flash—
    a spark-quick vision,
    just three paragraphs,
    from Thad DeVassie.
    Will the new world end
    or begin this way?
    Keep coming back
    and we’ll all find out.

    This is not what the prognosticators had in mind. The scorched beauty. The soft silence. The soaking it in with wonder and trepidation of a child in an experienced frame, experience that is now meaningless.

    Yes, these barren, meandering paths are on simmer. Ominous smoke-steam rising hints that a shift to boil is coming. The chaotic-mute landscape reveals what’s left of a wooden-handled screwdriver,
    a high heel-less shoe with no companion, a large, threadbare coat button, an empty and soiled snack-size bag of chips—a collage of misfit mediums on a thick canvas of ash.

    In the distance, we hear crickets rolling up in their makeshift wheelchairs, novices learning to play tiny violins. Surely they don’t know the murder ballads or a single funeral march. How could they with their repertoire amputated, all but erased? Yet from a distance, it sounds as if they are composing a gorgeous hymn for the end of the world.


    © by Thad DeVassie. Used by permission of the author.

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