Ommatidia » The Union

North Carolina

Brendan — Mon, 31 Mar 2008 12:00:58 +0000

North Carolina’s a good place to leave if you’re seeking melancholy. In London they said it was full of crazy people, and of course they’re right: shouldn’t we crazies stick together?

On my first trip to North Carolina we stopped to see you, Luke. Your voice had changed (mine wouldn’t for years) and our height difference had never been greater. You were playing violin and soccer; your dad hadn’t vanished yet. You were golden. You probably still are.

How do you stay golden? How do you leave the ones you love? How do you find someone whose last name is Smith?

Hawaii

Brendan — Fri, 03 Feb 2006 11:03:20 +0000

“Oh man!” says Maui. “I think I got a big one here, guys! Paddle hard so I can reel it in!”

“That’s not a damn fish,” grumbles his first brother. “It’s not moving, and you used four miles of line.”

“You also,” says his second brother, “already used that trick twice,” and waves at the two new islands smoking nearby.

“I mean it this time! Biiig fish!” Maui smiles, and his smile is the moon. “Big fish! Fishy fish?”

His brothers sigh, and turn, and begin to paddle like whirlpools. Maui pulls the line taut. Together, they haul up the world.

Alaska

Brendan — Thu, 02 Feb 2006 11:08:43 +0000

“It was a holy thing to the Chavin,” says Mulroney, panting, “to keep the god in darkness. It was a holy act to see him, right?”

“‘Who touched me?’” Chien quotes. “‘I felt power go out of me.’”

“Right.” Mulroney grins. “Except they disappeared around 200 BC. Left some ruins, textiles and metallurgy.”

“They died out.” Chien shrugs.

“Nope,” says Mulroney. “I figure they took their toys and walked–here we go–”

Out of the pass: the valley is filled with stone beehives, like the natives never built. Chien realizes he’s gaping.

“Up here,” wheezes Mulroney, “to where the nighttime lasts.”

Arizona

Brendan — Wed, 01 Feb 2006 10:58:10 +0000

Desert towns aren’t designed around good drainage: when it rains, it floods. But it’s not supposed to flood like this. Holly leaves Roger at his house and he leaves her his truck; she drives west, toward the dance.

The gym’s on low ground and the water’s already topping the first floor. The truck stalls before she can get across the lot. There are students reaching out the upstairs windows, and–no–the stucco wall is slumping–

Holly’s driving barefoot. She gathers her ruined skirt and rolls down the window. She runs out onto the water, and reaches, and then she doubts.

New Mexico

Brendan — Tue, 31 Jan 2006 11:34:57 +0000

“The thing about Greg Fu,” rasps the Teacher. “It’s like being the fastest draw in town, right? There’s boys lining up trying to be faster, and you’ll take them all down, until you meet the fastest–and then he’s going to take your place. Greg Fu’s like that only they ain’t trying to replace you. They’re trying to learn, and most of them are still going to die. Now, first lesson. It’s hot out. Feel the sweat band in your hat. It’s wet, right?”

Chili John feels, and nods.

The Teacher nods back. “That’s ’cause I peed on it,” he says.