Want to read some great stories? Here are my picks for Literary Mama’s September fiction. It was a real pleasure discovering these wonderful writers.
Meiosis
by J. Annie MacLeod
A year ago, the woman loved the baby. In the secret basket of her belly, she remade herself, cell by cell. An imaginary scientist, she began with the basics, the foundation: one X, then two. She rebuilt the code. She kept her father’s high-arched feet, solid shoulders, eyes like razors. She dropped her mother’s rolling veins and delicate chin, signs of weakness. This baby, she thought, this baby will have no fear.
Blue
by Vera Landry (btw, Vera is one of my favorite columnists over at Anti-Racist Parent)
Lynn stood in front of the open kitchen cabinet, talking to herself. “Hmmm. Black beans and rice. They like that. When was the last time I fed it to them?” As she tried to pull together a mental list of the meals she’d cooked recently, a loud, quick knock and a melodic “Hellooooo” interrupted and announced her sister Emmy’s arrival. Stephen leaped up from the kitchen stool and raced to the front door. “Auntie Emmy, Auntie Emmy!”
Lynn heard her sister’s voice. “Look what I have for you! Just a minute, just a minute. Let’s make sure this is OK with your mom first!”
She winced, hoping “this” was something that wouldn’t cause too much trouble. A decidedly single woman with no kids, Emmy’s judgment about what might be appropriate gifts for her five- and seven-year-old nephews could be, well, off. She wondered if Emmy had thought to bring something for Jason, too.
Winning My Peace
by Priscilla Kipp
When first I saw it, the thing growing deep inside me, an evil revealed, I screamed, “Get it out! Get it out of me!” The image on the doctor’s lightboard, the gray and black and white of it, was a mockery of my motherhood: no beginnings here. Stage IV is not at all like the last trimester of a pregnancy, except for being last.
The Memo
by Bettina Lanyi
The Beetle jerked to a stop in front of the low brick schoolhouse, spraying gravel. Lucy glanced at the outside clock: 9:03. The greeter-parent would still be here, but maybe they would luck out today. Maybe it would be Nora’s mom, or Ella’s dad…. a flash of yellow was approaching the car, a yellow so blinding it made Lucy squint. Shit. This could only mean one thing.
Suburban Barbie.
