Frayed

by Lindsay Redifer

I have a new zit. It’s wedged just under my nose, right on the skin of my upper lip, so it hurts when I talk. I want to pop it, but I know this zit. It will rip through my skin fiber by tiny fiber, and the pain will last for days. The smart thing to do is leave it alone, but I know I’ll attack it before too long.

I try not to think about the growing blemish on my face and focus on baby brother asleep in his crib. I can almost see him from my hiding place in my closet, but I can’t open the closet doors too much or else everything packed into the small space will tumble out. Before he was born my step-mother bought everything she could think of for a new baby boy and then bought it all again in a bigger size, claiming “he’ll grow so fast!” She spent Father’s money faster than ever while she was pregnant.

I put my hand in my pocket to feel the small objects floating around inside. A dried cherry, a small button, a balled up piece of napkin and a silver candy ball. I’m not sure which one will work; I’ll have to try each, but I need to be careful. This must look like an accident. Continue reading…

The Policy

By Lindsay Redifer

Lee is sitting on the newest HP Inkjet in a just a blouse and heels. I frame the shot one more time — the logo has to be nice and clear.

“Lee, move your feet a bit. I need to see those ink cartridges on the desk.”

“Okay!”

God, that voice. It’s like a cat whining into a garbage disposal. I try not to think. Just work. Just do. “Action!”

The printer starts spitting out glossy pictures of female eyes, crystal clear and beautiful on double-bond off-white paper. Lee moans and begins to masturbate wildly.

“Urrrhhhhnnnnoooohhhh!!!! The quality! Oooaarrggghhhh!!!” I shudder, but I seem to be the only one.

Ang, our script girl, stands watching without expression. Ang is Burmese and therefore banished to behind the scenes while Lee moans and grunts in the spotlight. Ang’s big, soft eyes are the same as those spewing out of the printer, over and over and over.
“And cut! Okay, let’s set for scene 8. Someone get Fat Man.”

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The Family Business

By Lindsay Redifer

Nana doesn’t like it here. She hates the apartment, the toys I bought her, the decorations, the DVDs. I’ve tried to talk to her, to coax her out of her corner, but she just screams and kicks. Those shiny black shoes I bought her can do some real damage.

I really thought this would be a special time for her. My own kidnapping started just like hers, but it went so smoothly. How did Big John do it?

I leave her alone with some crayons and paper near her corner and I wander through the penthouse. It’s not mine, it’s my dad’s. The security system installed in each room is my own design, right down to the logo. It blinks and beeps at me now with little red eyes.

Maybe I should call big John. Not that he’d answer his phone. He’s too busy running his empire. He has over one thousand employees now, each specially trained to make a person disappear, to negotiate for a huge ransom and then carefully disperse the small fortune. He has no time for self-trained amateurs. Continue reading…

Dead Meat

by Lindsay Redifer

For one week, the thick smell of rotten meat in the hot sun walked up and met us in the street. Flies came from everywhere, crawling on our arms and foreheads and deftly avoiding our swats. I don’t think I killed a single one.

All the roads were closed to our little burg. Cam, who had insisted we live in this adorable little shithole, wandered the streets at night, fueled on Tsingdao. He would finish one with a shopkeeper down to his last packages of Tuc crackers and then wander across the street to start again with a manager in a tiny noodle shop.

No, no fancy complex apartment for us, no pool, no gym. Instead, we had a small concrete enclave above a dirt road, laundry lines connecting us to our Chinese neighbors in every direction. Most days it was alright, a truly local neighborhood-but at times like this, oh God. What I wouldn’t give for the oversized dogs and fancy cocktails of the Shanghai elite.

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Stained

Sketchbook

by Lindsay Redifer

illustrated by Robin Wang

Bang!

The metro doors bulge for a second and the train seems to go faster. It’s as if someone trapped in the tunnel has made a desperate attempt to get through the doors shoulders first. The sound is angry. I’ve only slept a few hours, I remind myself. I could be hallucinating.

Deep breath.

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