Aris Bricker

Mr. Stilts

At precisely 4 o’clock in the afternoon the bell rang. Mr. Stilts looked up from his copy of The Industrialization of Massachusetts and the Resulting Effects on the Financial Outlook of New England by Professor Edgar Felter, determining his next step. It had been the bell of the back door that had been rung and that bell had only been rung twice before in his seven years on 244A Pace Avenue. The first time, he had answered the door to find no one except a large hydrangea bush along the brick that seemed to be giggling guiltily in the voices of several small children.

The Riddle Family

Once upon a time or two, there was a green- why do I always write tales of green characters?- shoelace. It was an old shoelace, laced with history. Okay, that pun was just too much. I apologize, and will never do that again. Also I must confess that it was not, er, given to having a rich past. Rather, it had led a boring life, as the lives of shoelaces generally go. Again I apologize for the inaccuracy, but I cannot promise to cease exaggerating, because more good stories contain a few stretches, and I cannot stray from this tendency.

The mural

I walked by it every day. We were friends. then capitalism took her away. She was part of my daily life and I had watch her slowly fade away. I'm too small to stop an entire chain hotel. I have a voice but it's not heard in those rooms.

You can still come see me, she says.
Yes, I say, but we both know I wont do that often. Our love is convenient.

I visited you last night. It made me happy to see you. But you are now boxed in. I can't get home easily. So if I come to see you, it's just to see you. It doesn't add just a few more minutes to my walk home; it adds an entire stop and a u turn. I hate that I have to decide how much I love you.

ladybug

Being cute is a prison, and I want to be imprisoned. I arrange my hair to arrange my mind. My hair looks cute, I look cute, I am cute. I can hide my face by putting on my face. There is safety behind these bars.

Inventions

It helped keep the madness at bay, her inventing. She had total control over every aspect. It was very cliche for the inventor to be mad and she knew it; but she supposed her madness was more pedestrian. Madness is an outdated term anyway. Still, you couldn’t help it once social media became the norm. There was too much, always too much. Some people used their voices for good but most people were just exhausting. At least the inventing helped her create instead of the whine whine whine online. She’d rather listen to the whine of machines. Both were bad for her tinnitus.

homework

how can I possibly write when all I want to do is create?

but isn’t writing creating?

can you create with someone else’s thoughts?

if I’m reading and taking notes and writing them out, is it creating or just repeating?

is repeating creating?

isn’t imitation the highest form of flattery?

is imitation creation?

isn’t imitation a form of inspiration?

isn’t creation based on inspiration?

if I am reading and writing and imitating from inspiration, isn’t that creation?

so then, the real question is, am I willing to accept that just doing homework is creation?

and that right now, working through this textbook,

I am a designer?

I wish poetry would stop calling to me.

I’m not supposed to be a philosopher but I don’t seem to have a choice.