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Follow This Desperate City on Instagram for a new story every Monday.
Volume 6
(October 2018 - Current)
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Go Forth
By J.J. Sinisi
We huddled in the cold moist of the forest. It had been three hours since Drew. We didn’t like Drew very much. We cheered when he left.
But the cold could no longer be ignored, our thin robes did little to protect. This is by design of course. Above, we watch the last remnants of the day scribbled away by encroaching darkness. Our pastor describes this as standing on the edge of existentialism. We didn’t know what he means. Instead, we focus on the tips of clouds still illuminated by the dying sun.
“Will we live?” Sandra asks.
We gasp with excitement.
Our pastor says, “Jeremiah: For I have plans for you, the Lord said. Plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
We smile, except for Sandra. “What about Drew?”
“Drew turned away.” He steadies himself against broken limb of a gnarled tree. We didn’t like Drew, but we struggle to forget his distant screams. “Who shall wander next?”
Our gaze settles on Sandra.
“Sandra,” Our pastor prompts, “we think it’s time.”
She shivers in her thin robes. “But it’s so cold.”
“Mathew says, But pray that your flight will not be in winter.” He rises and places a hand on her shoulder. “Today is the last day of autumn my child.”
We stifle our collective smiles while the cold burrows into our souls.
Sandra tries not to cry. “Can’t I stay with the group?”
“The group will stay with you child,” our pastor says, submerging his face deep into the hood of his heavy jacket, before pulling from her the last remnants of her doubt.
If I must, is what she says next, but we can’t hear her over our celebration. We rejoice, watching the faithless disappear into the thick brambles of the forest, naked although no longer shivering.
For the Lord has given her warmth, as we always knew he would.
END. (322 Words)
But the cold could no longer be ignored, our thin robes did little to protect. This is by design of course. Above, we watch the last remnants of the day scribbled away by encroaching darkness. Our pastor describes this as standing on the edge of existentialism. We didn’t know what he means. Instead, we focus on the tips of clouds still illuminated by the dying sun.
“Will we live?” Sandra asks.
We gasp with excitement.
Our pastor says, “Jeremiah: For I have plans for you, the Lord said. Plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
We smile, except for Sandra. “What about Drew?”
“Drew turned away.” He steadies himself against broken limb of a gnarled tree. We didn’t like Drew, but we struggle to forget his distant screams. “Who shall wander next?”
Our gaze settles on Sandra.
“Sandra,” Our pastor prompts, “we think it’s time.”
She shivers in her thin robes. “But it’s so cold.”
“Mathew says, But pray that your flight will not be in winter.” He rises and places a hand on her shoulder. “Today is the last day of autumn my child.”
We stifle our collective smiles while the cold burrows into our souls.
Sandra tries not to cry. “Can’t I stay with the group?”
“The group will stay with you child,” our pastor says, submerging his face deep into the hood of his heavy jacket, before pulling from her the last remnants of her doubt.
If I must, is what she says next, but we can’t hear her over our celebration. We rejoice, watching the faithless disappear into the thick brambles of the forest, naked although no longer shivering.
For the Lord has given her warmth, as we always knew he would.
END. (322 Words)
City of Scars
By J.J. Sinisi
We’ll always have LA she says. I thought it trite and derivative, and everything I hated about commonality of phrase, but for some reason, watching her mouth form the words through the sliver of space between her top and bottom lip, where the mighty air of her lungs gave voice to her indomitable soul, I forced a smile in spite of my jadedness.
“City of stars. It was fun while it had lasted.”
“That’s all I’ll remember,” she says, “the happiness. Little scars that make me smile.”
This was her oft stated philosophy; only the new, the different, create lasting marks on the skin of our memories.
“I hate you,” I say.
She leans over the railing and inhales the Pacific salt floating all these stories up. Splayed before us is the windy outer crust of California’s coast.
“I know,” she places a hand on my chest, “I hate you too.”
We kiss.
She leaves then, and I’m alone wondering how does it all fit back together?
Maybe I shouldn’t try. Maybe I should suppress my thoughts of her. But my guts revolt and the feelings burst through my complacency until I am devoured. It’s how she made me feel anyway – completely devoured.
So instead, I envelop the pain and let it inform my already blossoming wanderlust, that way she’s always near, even if I never see her again. I stray, hopefully fading the imprint of her in my thoughts. She’d want that after all, something new in her place. Something different.
Over the next five years I set about adapting, shuffling jobs, residences, and sometimes, my love life. It helps to assuage the pain.
But she never told me this piece: Loss is a sort of change too. It leaves similar marks.
Scars really.
LA represents to me today nothing more than that. Vestigial pain but still gnarled, an entire metropolis gathered around my longing.
A city of scars.
END. (322 Words)
“City of stars. It was fun while it had lasted.”
“That’s all I’ll remember,” she says, “the happiness. Little scars that make me smile.”
This was her oft stated philosophy; only the new, the different, create lasting marks on the skin of our memories.
“I hate you,” I say.
She leans over the railing and inhales the Pacific salt floating all these stories up. Splayed before us is the windy outer crust of California’s coast.
“I know,” she places a hand on my chest, “I hate you too.”
We kiss.
She leaves then, and I’m alone wondering how does it all fit back together?
Maybe I shouldn’t try. Maybe I should suppress my thoughts of her. But my guts revolt and the feelings burst through my complacency until I am devoured. It’s how she made me feel anyway – completely devoured.
So instead, I envelop the pain and let it inform my already blossoming wanderlust, that way she’s always near, even if I never see her again. I stray, hopefully fading the imprint of her in my thoughts. She’d want that after all, something new in her place. Something different.
Over the next five years I set about adapting, shuffling jobs, residences, and sometimes, my love life. It helps to assuage the pain.
But she never told me this piece: Loss is a sort of change too. It leaves similar marks.
Scars really.
LA represents to me today nothing more than that. Vestigial pain but still gnarled, an entire metropolis gathered around my longing.
A city of scars.
END. (322 Words)
Drifter
By J.J. Sinisi
Titan’s foot messaged the petal, hand fluid on the chrome shifter, cajoling his modified Maxima’s belching approval through the downtown loop.
Three weeks ago he thought he’d lost T-Ray. To another man, to the east coast, to time’s humorless tugging.
But life had accelerated since then. And now the force of attraction twisted around him so violently, he felt he could pull on the heavens themselves if he only exerted his will.
“Eight seconds,” T-Ray smiled and gripped the door strap. The car pitched, sport struts flexing in unison with the uneven highway.
“Shit’s hot!”
The bottom dropped out and they jumped up, somewhere behind them the undercarriage rained sparks.
Titan spared a glance at T-Ray. No moon tonight, only intermittent streetlamp flashes lighting the blue leather interior and permitting incognito glimpses of T-Ray’s smooth cheeks, his puffy lips, and the lovely way his brown skin disappeared into the LA shadows.
“There there!” T-Ray exclaimed.
Trailing red tail lights smeared in front of them.
The car’s rattle shook Titan’s insides, rummaging around his stomach. The excitement of the race, and of T-Ray’s proximity, settled behind his eyes, and, as though through a warped tunnel, he commanded the road, and the vehicle, and the power, and the world. He was an arrow. A straight line. He was one dimension of power and thrust.
He sliced the wheel; they careened around a tight turn.
Buildings exploded into view, urbanity’s illumination bursting with colors, and he drifted past their opponent heading towards the distant finish.
“Fuuuuuuuck!” T-Ray yelled but laughed as he slid into Titan’s lap.
“Not yet baby,” Titan smiled.
“But mother fuckn’ soon I hope.”
And that’s all he needed. That attraction. No more wandering, floating, unmoored and listless. It was now, in speed, linear movement, he realized his present life. And he floored the gas and pulled all of that angular momentum into one true point, heading towards home.
END. (319 Words)
Three weeks ago he thought he’d lost T-Ray. To another man, to the east coast, to time’s humorless tugging.
But life had accelerated since then. And now the force of attraction twisted around him so violently, he felt he could pull on the heavens themselves if he only exerted his will.
“Eight seconds,” T-Ray smiled and gripped the door strap. The car pitched, sport struts flexing in unison with the uneven highway.
“Shit’s hot!”
The bottom dropped out and they jumped up, somewhere behind them the undercarriage rained sparks.
Titan spared a glance at T-Ray. No moon tonight, only intermittent streetlamp flashes lighting the blue leather interior and permitting incognito glimpses of T-Ray’s smooth cheeks, his puffy lips, and the lovely way his brown skin disappeared into the LA shadows.
“There there!” T-Ray exclaimed.
Trailing red tail lights smeared in front of them.
The car’s rattle shook Titan’s insides, rummaging around his stomach. The excitement of the race, and of T-Ray’s proximity, settled behind his eyes, and, as though through a warped tunnel, he commanded the road, and the vehicle, and the power, and the world. He was an arrow. A straight line. He was one dimension of power and thrust.
He sliced the wheel; they careened around a tight turn.
Buildings exploded into view, urbanity’s illumination bursting with colors, and he drifted past their opponent heading towards the distant finish.
“Fuuuuuuuck!” T-Ray yelled but laughed as he slid into Titan’s lap.
“Not yet baby,” Titan smiled.
“But mother fuckn’ soon I hope.”
And that’s all he needed. That attraction. No more wandering, floating, unmoored and listless. It was now, in speed, linear movement, he realized his present life. And he floored the gas and pulled all of that angular momentum into one true point, heading towards home.
END. (319 Words)