Porcelain Money

Everything he touched turned to porcelain.

It wasn't like a wish turned wrong, just a straight up curse, placed on him by unlucky stars, or an aggrieved warlock, or just dumb luck.

He learned to live with after a while. It was inconvenient, but he managed to eat by having people gently place food into his throat and swallowing without chewing. Soups mostly.

Of course his love life was non-existent. Porcelain people in various stages of undress wasn't much of a fetish.

The good news was being King allowed him to declare porcelain as the only form of legal currency.

Bathroom Tile

‘Once upon a time someone tried to imitate marble with porcelain.

Understandable; humans have been artificially recreating nature since the cavemen. It’s our nature to synthesize.’

Arnold stood in the bathroom of his newly rented apartment, pondering its cladding.

A 12x12 tile covered the floor and all four walls. The same pink-veined beige tile, repeated 286 times.

‘But this imitation fails instantly due to the repetition. Nothing could be less realistic.’

He felt he’d been given insight into an anonymous tile designer’s mindset. He didn’t know how to interpret it, but he had a year-long lease to mull it over.

From Guest Contributor Olivia Rerick

Keeping Secrets

“Don’t tell your mother,” whispered Harold, sweeping up porcelain pieces as Jacob walked in.

“Gee, Dad, she’ll explode when she finds out.”

“That’s why I ordered a replacement.”

When the doorbell rang, Carrie raced to the door.

“Did you order anything?” she asked Harold who happened to appear alongside.

“Yes I did,” he mumbled. “I’ll open it in my office, after my next Zoom meeting.”

At dinner, everyone gathered in the dining room. Carrie glanced at the China cabinet.

“Strange,” she uttered. “I’m certain that figurine has blonde hair, not red.”

Jacob turned his head the other way to smile.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna is a writer of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. She resides in Edmonton, Canada.

Super Man

“I vacuumed and mopped,” Andy said to his wife, Michelle.

“Really?” Michelle replied, looking up from scrubbing the upstairs toilet.

“Yes,” Andy beamed. “And you didn’t even have to ask.”

“Fantastic,” Michelle said before turning back to attack the porcelain with a scrub brush. “Your award ceremony will be on ESPN tonight at seven.”

“Cool!’ Andy said, and he took his cellphone to the downstairs bathroom to catch up on Facebook. Thirty minutes later when he flushed for the second time, he was starting to wonder if Michelle had been joking.

He decided to set the DVR just in case.

From Guest Contributor John Sheirer

John is an author and teacher who loves living in New England. His most recent book is Fever Cabin, a fictional journal of a man isolating out of fear of COVID-19 who confronts his life choices. Proceeds benefit virus relief organizations. Find John at JohnSheirer.com