In my language people call it ‘slippery fetus’, cannot be held, unravels like ribbon. You are ‘slippery daughter’, will not be held, all over the floor. Wear colors, no more gray, you are almost see-through. Eat more ginger, less salt, no tears. Take showers not baths you are already drowning, get a haircut you look like closed curtains. Move out of your big house, you two rattling around like marbles, babies rattling around in you. I hear in this country nobody talks about ‘recurrent miscarriage’, nobody breathes a word, no body, no breath. ‘Mis’, like mis-take, mis-demeanor, mis-ery, mis-s you.
Kristen Loesch is an Asian-American writer based in the Pacific Northwest. She placed runner-up in the 2019 Mslexia Short Story Competition and the Funny Pearls Short Story Competition 2020. Her flash fiction has been shortlisted for the SmokeLong Quarterly Award for Flash Fiction and the Flash 500, among others. She is currently working on her first novel and is represented by Zeitgeist Agency. She lives with her husband and children. Twitter: @KShaoling
Submit Your Stories
Always free. Always open. Professional rates.