Wendy Day 2 – Group A

Around the time I turned nine, Mother invented the Knife Game. She would plop something––a cucumber, an eggplant, or whole fish––and challenge me to slice, dice, or filet; choose the proper tool and make a masterpiece. I’d learned the art from watching her shave a...

Zychi III had devastating indigo skies which word has it even a black hole looked at so covetously it created a counterfeit world a replica that a survey crew saw before their transmission choked off   After the cull you ordered, the crimson ripples left a legacy...

The offer letter is addressed to the guy who used to live here, before I moved in. I don’t notice that until I’ve already opened the envelope. It has a glossy brochure, with a logo in flaring red, that makes me think of an unlikeable lipstick. It says, “Stop by for...

You can’t say you weren’t warned. He had a hit song about it. His siren song filled the mid-00s airwaves, imprinting on all the girls that would later flock to his mansion when adulthood proved to be a total letdown. When the front door opens, his music drifts out...

You are Henry VIII. You are 5’5’’ and built like a brick shithouse. Your forearm in tennis is phenomenal--your courtier-opponents always flopping to the ground when you strike a shot down the line. Huzzah! You shout. Huzzah! The little crowd of courtiers shouts behind...