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by Ava Chapman One time my father went to the Albertsons in Los Angeles during a power outage it was complete Dark wandering the aisles the fruit stands groping your way through he came back to our dark home with soup where he hadn’t seen the checkout artist’s eyes my eyes are dark and his are light it is mostly always bright in California the heat went up 110 last week I tried to bake a cookie on the pavement and it Worked took 4 hours tasted like gravel but it worked the day was baking everything my sunburn looked angrier and Helena told me she’d been drinking sweet tea and filled her bath with ice cubes sometimes I stand in front of the refrigerator hear its whir feel its yellow light once Helena and I threw ice cubes from her balcony and waited for the crack when cars ran over them it was exciting but probably some panic for the drivers involved I never trust myself when I’m driving sweat even when Los Angeles isn’t trying to bake me alive but one time surfers yelled at me loud music pumping You Failed they didn’t know I wasn’t taking the test generally I am very good at tests like if you want to hear about the Roman Empire I can tell you that I am scared of this country and our own bread and circus I am scared when I see toddlers satiated by the dull screen light of an iPad what an ugly word but I am ugly too in the complicated way that people are and I am drawn into false lights like Gatsby too impressed by shiny things and new cars and fake names like my father goes by James at Starbucks and other places because Kalea is too much but I am talking about sparkling people named James who say they are Kalea like my father never talks about his childhood only told me last year there were cannibals living with him this did not register as important information the man-eaters called their victims long-pigs now I know what human flesh tastes like I was always guessing good a dead person has something missing I am told it is like Here but not Here I have never seen a dead body the light gone from the eyes we are all light until my father needs false sunlight to survive plugs it in the kitchen outlet when Apollo can’t make happy.  Ava Chapman is currently a senior in high school in Los Angeles, is particularly fond of Thursdays and rain, and her favorite authors are Donna Tartt, Rebecca Solnit, and Ocean Vuong. She has attended summer creative writing programs at CalArts, Sewanee, and Kenyon College. She has also received an Honorable Mention from the 2017 Scholastic Writing Awards and was a writer for Zine Club Mag from 2015-16. Catch this Kurt Cobain lookalike on Instagram at @avatherose. Comments are closed.
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