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The Encroachment of Waking Life
The man in the fur hat warned me things might be different after we crossed the time barrier—that my presence might confound, even frighten those who’d forgotten me.
Just after noon, I drive over the Golden Gate Bridge. It’s a shadow of what it once was. Nuclear fallout from a bomb that detonated more than four hundred miles away and years ago in Seattle left the bridge standing, but discolored; black rust creeps from the edges of its beams into the dulled red paint, like waking life encroaching on a dream. The lunar blue of the water seems higher now, closer to the bridge.
What. Are. You
He’ll try to hurt me again. I terrify him as much as he terrifies me
Let go let go let go!
Anita Felicelli is the author of a short story collection LOVE SONGS FOR A LOST CONTINENT (Stillhouse Press) and CHIMERICA: A NOVEL (forthcoming from WTAW Press, 2019). Her reviews and essays have appeared in the San Francisco Chronicle, Los Angeles Review of Books, Slate, the NYT (Modern Love), and elsewhere. Follow her on Twitter @anitafelicelli.
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More in this series
The cashiers and the butcher had eyed my wrist like it told them everything they needed to know about me. But the bracelet meant nothing to the raven. It was his toy, the part of me meant for him.
Here was the situation: Pearl belonged to Ba, Em belonged to Ma, and I belonged to my sisters.
The Genius and the Devil
What I wanted to know was this: What does it feel like to create something wondrous? To have a vision and then to perfectly translate that vision onto canvas?