Archive for the ‘Kat Beyer’ Category
The New Job
Monday, April 27th, 2009
“You’ve never been up to my apartment before, have you?” Matilda asked, unlocking the modern lock on the door with a worn brass key. Juliet followed the old woman into the sunniest apartment she’d ever seen. The windows stood wide open. Juliet, from her place across the street, often saw Matilda leave without bothering to close them, a mad choice in a neighborhood full of dealers and thieves, let alone Juliet’s two baseball-crazed sons. Matilda just pitched the balls back.
A bird flew in, chirping at Matilda.
“Thank you,” said Matilda; Juliet realized she was speaking to the bird. It flew off. “You can put the groceries on the counter,” Matilda said to Juliet. “Thank you for lending a hand. I’ve gone and gotten old.”
Juliet found herself staring at the countertop. She could see coiled shells in it, and, impossibly, tiny spirals of writing.
“Are those fossils?” she asked, and Matilda nodded. “And the writing… What language is that?”
“Hah! I knew I was right,” said Matilda.
“What do you mean?” asked Juliet.
“I’ve been watching you. I’m retiring, my dear,” said the old woman, “and I’ve chosen you to take over.”
“Take over what?” Juliet stared.
“The world,” said Matilda, laughing. “Sorry, my awful joke.”
She gestured at the rug in the living room and suddenly Juliet could see that it was the ocean, with the chairs and couches as continents riding on it, clouds tugging and forming in the sunlight pouring in from the window.
“It all takes a while to figure out, like the writing on the counter,” Matilda went on briskly. “My advice is to get your kids launched before you try anything serious. There are some books around the house, and a few rules, but it’s all pretty much learn as you go.”
“Learn what as I go?” asked Juliet.
“Being God,” said Matilda.
Juliet only stared.
Matilda smiled and asked, “Who did you think was in charge?”
“I don’t know,” said Juliet, adding, “And if I don’t want to?”
“Believe me, there are days when you don’t want to. It’s like being a parent,” sighed Matilda. “But once you’ve been chosen, that’s that. I’m quite sure I’ve chosen a worthy successor.”
She chucked Juliet under the chin.
“It’s a compliment,” she prompted.
“Thank you,” Juliet replied. Matilda laughed, pressed the worn brass key into her hand, and walked out the door.
The Mottled Disk
Friday, April 17th, 2009
Jordan watched the glass disk in the street very carefully. He was pretty sure it had not been there a couple of minutes before, and he was also sure that he hadn’t looked away from the pavement.
Finally he nudged it with a dirty sneaker. It looked awfully thin, and he was afraid to break it, but when he touched it with the edge of his shoe, it didn’t seem to budge. He squatted down and looked into it. It wasn’t glass like a windowpane. It looked more like that piece of volcanic glass that Mrs. Gubner had brought to school, except bluish, and with weird spots in it, that swirled and rippled even though he couldn’t see them move. He just knew they did.
After a while he remembered that he had to go to school, and realized that he was looking up at the houses along the street with great relief—they are still here, they aren’t rotted away and gone like in a time travel movie, came the thought. So he walked over to his skateboard and his backpack and kept going.
After a minute or two the glass disk rose as if someone underneath it were opening a hatch, which was pretty much the case; a man and a woman emerged, wearing orange business suits.
“Well, that was close,” said the man. The woman examined the street.
“Still using asphalt. We should go forward about a century,” she announced.
“You know best,” said the man, and they lifted the glass disk and climbed under it again.
A house finch swooping down to look at the shiny thing was rather startled to find it gone at swoop’s bottom.