The Chrome Phase

This photo was taken on September 19th, 2001. This is what it looked like for several weeks afterwards. All over Jersey City were flyers taped to every telephone pole, sign post, newspaper vending machine, bus stop shelter, and mailbox with photos of missing people, most of whom were never found, lost at the bottom of that glowing pile of rubble. Former co-workers who were 66 floors high were in there too. So many of us didn't sleep for weeks, haunted by those ghosts and a skyline that was suddenly unfamiliar. On this day every year all over the internet I see "Never Forget" along with the horrifying images of the buildings up in smoke. I think about what a ridiculous sentiment that is. Never Forget. I understand that everyone means well, but how could I possibly forget? How could anyone? I wish  I could. I've been trying to forget for 19 years now. We will never be free from this for the remainder of our lifetimes.  So, thanks social media for trying to re-open the w...

I released the net and hundreds of balloons came sailing from above. They drifted gracefully on the warm air, descending with the rhythm, towards thousands of people. Once they hit the crowd, they danced up and down, side to side, the arena awash in a rainbow of color.

Her paw stretched out, tentatively, toward the candle flame. “Don’t do it,” said the human, knowing it was futile. She tapped the burning wick with her paw and flinched. “I told you,” the human said with a grin. Curiosity prevailing, she leaned in again, retreating with shortened whiskers.

I emerged from the tunnel behind a diner, a landmark I immediately recognized when I saw its metallic and neon reflection in parked car windows. I had spent a lot of time here in high school, the hangout of choice when practice was over but curfew was still an hour away. I shook off the nostalgia, knowing that whatever awaited me here tonight was not going to involve friends, grilled cheese, or crass jokes. I stepped through main entrance and swept the room, hoping to see a familiar face, preferably the agent who sent me here in the first place. He said it was a mission - my first - but gave me no instructions. All I knew was that something was about to happen here that could destroy the world, and I had to stop it. The interior was shiny and reflective, that classic Jersey diner style which caused jump-scares in corners when you caught a glimpse of your reflection in multiples. This could be helpful, I thought, having a view of all angles. I waved off the hostess, who did...

“Do I need to bring TP?” Madison whispered into her phone to her best friend, Grace. “Nope! We’re stealing it from the school bathrooms,” replied Grace. “Hurry up and get down here!” Madison slid open her bedroom window and climbed down the leafy trellis to the bushes below. “Welcome to life after curfew!” Grace said in a loud whisper. “Shh!” Madison reacted, scanning the darkness. “Don’t get us in trouble before we’ve even left the yard!” “Relax, Maddie, there is NOBODY out here. Not even Curfew Officers. It’s been hours since twilight. Come on!” Grace led Madison through a labyrinth of yards, avoiding streetlights. It took a few minutes for Madison’s eyes to adjust and notice that Grace was toting not one, but two rifles. “Is the extra one for me?” Madison asked sarcastically. “Maddie, I know you don’t have a rifle, and I know you think you’re making some big statement by not getting one because you’re the one who told everyone they should get one,...

Alice looked impatiently at her watch. Five more minutes until her daughter Madison and the other four candidates would present their high school theses to the Elmwood University enrollment board.  “Shouldn’t we head to the lecture hall?” Alice asked the tour guide. She didn’t want to miss Maddie’s presentation, a discussion about the Constitution. "The Bill of Negative Rights", she called it. “Oh, that’s a closed event, ma’am. We’ll finish up the tour in time for you all to retrieve your students.” The tour guide didn’t even pause before continuing. “Next we are going to walk through the residential quad. Naturally, we will not be going inside any of the residence or dining halls for security reasons.” “Are the dorms co-ed?” asked a parent. “No, they’re all gender-segregated. Each entrance is equipped with a fingerprint reader and laser counter to ensure only authorized residents have access.” Well, that’s overkill, thought Alice. What fun is college if ...

Alice stepped onto the dock in the backyard where her daughter sat, feet dangling into the creek. “Maddie, help me with dinner, please.” “But I need supplies for my presentation board.” Alice inhaled tightly. “It’s almost curfew, Madison. Why didn’t you remind me earlier?” “It’s just stuff from Target. I can go myself.” “No. Write down what you need. I’ll go right now.” “Seriously, mom, it’s okay. I’m 18. I can sign.” Alice was firm. “Inside now, please, and make a shopping list.” Madison rolled her eyes, but obeyed. Arguing was futile. Alice grabbed Madison’s list in one hand, purse in the other. No use getting frustrated. College applications were treacherous; the private schools made it nearly impossible. If Madison’s project didn’t astonish the enrollment board at Elmwood, her acceptance could be revoked and she’d end up at State. State was a good school, but it didn’t have the budget for security. Outside the ivies (which no longer accepted...