Becoming

Mrs. Hoover knelt in front of me, a gesture reserved for the quietest of her preschool students.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” she repeated.

I knew what I would become, but it had nothing to do with wanting or wishing. My fate felt solid, and it vied for my attention.

I tried to ignore the itch.

Even at a young age I knew that it would be dangerous to provide details.

“It doesn’t matter what I want to be, only what I am becoming,” I recited, the scales on my ankle yearning to be scratched.

From Guest Contributor Sarah Vernetti

Imperfect

Some say handwriting is an art form. Practice makes perfect, the preschool teacher said. If it were true, I would have the handwriting of an exquisite 14-point Arial. Instead, my wastebasket overflows with paper balls of failure. Black smudges across my skin like dried blood from the words I’ve killed with imperfection. Sweat seeps over pores as I seethe at my incompetence. When the flawless blue lines of loose leaf repulse me, I succumb to technology. Every keystroke delivers proportional consistency, yielding blissful pride as my fingers connect. Only then am I free from the curse of my obsessive mind.

Laura Widener

Laura is a wife, mother, and coffee addict living in rural Georgia. She holds degrees in Sociology and Human Services, and completed her MFA in Writing at Lindenwood University. Her forthcoming work will be found in Riding Light and NoiseMedium, and her previous work can be found in TWJ Magazine, Morpheus Tales, and Life in 10 Minutes. Visit her blog at: http://incessantpen.wordpress.com

The Dreamer

As a boy, Howard dreamed of giant spiders in his father's tool shed. They were black with red spots and the size of a large dog.

He'd not thought of that dream in years. But when the town was invaded by giant spiders, he realized his dreams predicted the future.

He'd also once dreamed that tornadoes were actually giant tomatoes. One of them landed on his preschool and smashed everything. He now expected a giant tomato to hit and wipe out the spiders before more of his family was killed.

It turns out that giant spiders thrive on tomato sauce.