Short story from Jacques Fleury

Silhouette of a man facing a hazy pink background. You can see his spine, it looks like an x-ray.

Photo Art C/O Jacques Fleury

Serendipity

“Ser·en·dip·i·ty- the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way.”

 [Originally published in Fleury’s book “It’s Always Sunrise Somewhere and Other Stories”

     Your alarm is going off and you roll over in your bed and turn your back to it all the while cursing it for being so obnoxiously loud and intrusive. It’s 5:30 a.m. and you have to be at work by 8. When you occasionally open your eyes, you can see the sun rise over the nearby lake, hovering patiently waiting for you to wake up and take notice of it. But you went to bed late last night sorting out your bills at the kitchen table before you became totally exasperated, muttered “Fuck it” under your breath and went to bed at 1 a.m.

     Once your still hyperactive brain decides to quiet down, you had that dream again. You were dressed in a white tuxedo standing in front of the clergy with your friends and family sitting behind you with seemingly permanent smiles in their faces like the joker. And then their smiles turned to discomfort, embarrassment and their faces express worry when Mark still hasn’t shown up. You two have been together since high school and you’ve been waiting 10 years for this moment, the moment when you’ll marry him and be together until the end of your time on earth. You glance down at your watch and it’s almost 12 p.m. Mark was supposed to be there by 11 a.m. And then you look up into the sky and there is Mark, riding a white winged horse and he looks down at you and smiles, except there is something peculiar about his face. You look closer by squinting your eyes to realize that he has no eyes. His eye sockets are dark and empty and consumed by a hazy rush of fear and distress, you bolt up in bed panting like you were being chased by some horrific looking creature in a sinister forest.

     You have tried to figure out what the dream means since Mark has been deceased for about a year now.  He died due to complications of pneumonia that went untreated unbeknown to both of you.  You did not anticipate this and so there were things that went unspoken because he died so suddenly. And almost every night, you have the same recurring dream and you are feeling persecuted yet don’t feel like you have any control over what happens when you are no longer conscious. You resolve to talk this over with your therapist.

You’ve been seeing him since Mark passed away, for a long time, you were unable to function. You refused to leave the house or get out of bed in the morning. Your sister had to come over and care for you and even helped with paying the bills since you lost your job due to excessive absence. But after 3 months had passed, with the help of your sister and therapy, you managed to get back on your feet, attained another job and started to slowly come out of your former zombie-like state of existence. But your presence of mind is still unconsummated and these days, you are functioning on automatic pilot; just going through daily monotonous routines with no joy, optimism or passion. You’ve isolated yourself from your friends despite how hard they try to reach you by phone or email. You feel angry at Mark for leaving you and so you’ve decided to punish everyone around you, including yourself, because you don’t understand why this had to happen to you. Your once benevolent, sunny disposition has soured into a bitter scowl and an impervious facial expression that conveys indifference.

     It is now 6a.m. and you’ve finally decided to get up. Outside, the sun is higher in the sky and you open your bedroom window, stick your head out, close your eyes and take a deep breath of your mountainous surroundings. The sound of the streaming lake uncoils your often convoluted and distorted thoughts and for the first time in months, your usually stoical face breaks into an apprehensive smile. But something in you wants to stay demure and unaffected, so you quickly reverse back to scowling. Yet you feel there is something dissimilar in the air, as if your usual routine is about to take a turn for the best, but you’re not sure you’re prepared for it or even want it.

      You make your way into the bathroom and as usual, you avoid looking at yourself in the mirror while you shave and brush your teeth and as usual tears splices down your face. After you’ve downed your carnation instant breakfast, you head out to work at the Blue Blood Department Store, where you are Shift Supervisor.

     You like your work, but you don’t welcome the unwanted attention of your female co-workers, who all think you’re a total hottie, even though they all know you’re gay since you used to bring Mark to company picnics and such. You ignore their excessive fawning and just go about your day. And then he walks in.  A handsome guy of average height and weight who looks like he may be from Brazil. You practically scurry over to ask him if he needs any assistance. He smiles and says yes and you can see a knowing twinkle in his eyes when he looks at you and as if you two are exchanging secrets codes with one another, you return a knowing smile back at him. And deep inside of you, you know something has changed. You look over his shoulders and outside, you can see the sun setting through the double glass doors seemingly staring at you, knowingly.

Young adult Black man with short shaved hair, a big smile, and a suit and purple tie.
Jacques Fleury

Jacques Fleury is a Boston Globe featured Haitian American Poet, Educator, Author of four books and a literary arts student at Harvard University online. His latest publication “You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self”  & other titles are available at all Boston Public Libraries, the University of Massachusetts Healey Library, University of  Wyoming, Askews and Holts Library Services in the United Kingdom, The Harvard Book Store, The Grolier Poetry Bookshop, Amazon etc…  He has been published in prestigious publications such as Wilderness House Literary Review, Muddy River Poetry Review, Litterateur Redefining World anthologies out of India, Poets Reading the News, the Cornell University Press anthology Class Lives: Stories from Our Economic Divide, Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene among others…Visit him at:  http://www.authorsden.com/jacquesfleury.

Silhouetted figure leaping off into the unknown with hand and leg raised. Bushes and tree in the foreground, mountains ahead. Book is green and yellow with black text and title.
Jacques Fleury’s book You Are Enough: The Journey Towards Understanding Your Authentic Self

Poetry from Sean Meggeson

synapse home

Exley sheep coma dream

birds hand-hold squirrels  

someone named Hilda

someone called Whoopsie Daisy

someone

taste of uneating

reminds of hating

compensatory Goldberg   

if

if only

one thing to must learn

count to the number oops  

cease crying nowsie cogito  

retaaardo 

olivetti womb

squeak ribb on

crab thread rod

age 18 book ray pipe

[lunar co click

lunar pi cup

lunar lee pappy]

Fripp make   down bolt

  bag econ   mall court risk   19[manohman]88

pocket wellek

ex plod flow flower                                plunk

damn blake pod hard   slip

things done night night nought

history concludes                                    why not

drunk history friend                                why not

drunk history bomb                                why not

collusion unto cha-ching

degree dunk slow bing

upset so high baby king

struggle era detect click click

live lonely little mysticism                      phut

no books

english likely unworded finn ly

drama boy slugfest ly

patch of grass mostly

formality spirit restrict

bitter joke darko

lamb to orgy class attention

class modification agnostic corporate

working under paternity blade

morning spirit tone   redeems

redemption body movements drill press home heart maternal ring

indentured standing drub

indentured standing stab

standing cockamamie

cuisine laughter better

one glass stomach

every turn attack turn solicitor

current cold kill whiskey blub

face derma play pick pace trad

symbols upon walk upon Frye book   home

copy anno anon non espresso grit   future fossil flip hurts now change

want change want   if means

Poetry from Duane Vorhees

MY ABSENT PRESENCE

People will weep.

Maybe they’ll pray.

They’ll likely say

nice things – Oh, Christ!

–When I met them.

–Where we took care.

–How I look now.

Then all my friends

will become still

as our whole past

binds up their minds

and that’s my brand.

ANOTHER YEAR ENDING

The geese are gone.

Another winter’s coming on,

and then a sound sleep

before we wake and leap.

Another year’s ending,

and then a new beginning.

Because life needs a frame

every year’s the same.

DUCK TAPE AND CHICKEN WIRE

A man can fix any part

with duck tape and chicken wire

except for a broken heart

and a field of wheat on fire.

The crop will grow back again

but the heart will never mend.

TONY

My first dog taught me justice,

mercy, and forgiveness.

When I pulled Tony’s tail

he bit me without fail,

and then he’d lick my face.

And thus I learned ‘bout grace.

God gave a dog to Adam

both as consolation

and as compensation

for the loss of Eden.

773౺

I’m upside down in Hell deeper than a dry well.

Oh, but why am I here with crooked financiers,

blasphemers, murderers, thieves, and adulterers?

The Devil came to me and he grinned wickedly.

“You’re here because you failed to live a life unveiled.

You had your mortal faults and kept them in your heart

instead of admitting, instead of correcting.

You, no self-inventor, just let your failings foster.

You never tried to move, get better, or improve.

If you’d been more driven, now you’d be in Heaven.”

And then I woke in sweats,

aware of mortal debts.

EXACTLY!

Eggs white, eggs brown.

The yolk is the same,

exactly the same.

Albumen’s the same,

exactly the same.

White ones, brown ones,

their soul is the same.

Poetry from Daniel De Culla

Black and white photo of a young boy in a suit with a cross and a young girl in a white lacey dress with a headdress in front of a brick wall.

FIRST COMMUNION

-The Communion is a very good thing

Because you receive the Lord

Mom said.

Although the day before

We went to put bunches of flowers

To decorate the altar

Of the parish church

I knew this was a story

Because my friend “Boca negra” had told me

That they were Milan wafers.

They called him “Boca negra”

Because he was always eating

Sweet coal

Like the one that had been given to him

Santa Claus and the Three Wise Men

When he was little.

He was the one who told us

That the Three Wise Men

Were our parents.

Before our mom took us

To take the first Communion

(Our dad couldn’t

Because he was on duty)

She ignored

The religious order of not eating anything

Before going to take Communion

She gave us for breakfast

Cocoa with milk and churros (fritters)

And a Swiss roll with chocolate

For after taking Communion.

When we arrived at the Church

They were already giving Communion

To all the boys and girls

And the Mass to finish.

An excellent glow

We saw them come down from the altarpiece

With two beautiful angels

Who took us by the hand

To accompany us to take Communion

Telling us in our ear with a kiss:

-Do not be afraid.

Because you have not sinned

By having breakfast before taking Communion.

For this reason do not be sad at all

Because Jesus loves you

Because your souls are

Full of eternal glory.

After taking Communion

We gave them

Our Swiss rolls and chocolate.

The angels told us as we left:

We are going to give this to God

For a snack.

You will see how happy he is!

-Daniel de Culla