Wild Thing

Image of birthday candles on a cake at night.Mother empties Father’s pockets and confiscates his phone. Dollar bills unfurl. Pills scatter like candy across the floor. Oblivious, Father makes a tinfoil crown and places it on Max’s head. Forehead to forehead, they lock eyes without blinking. Father gnashes his terrible teeth. Max lets out a terrible roar. Mother’s all frosty. Makes coffee. Lights seven candles on the cake. Max wishes Father would stay. Mother doesn’t tell him Father ate pills, how later he’ll sink into the sofa like a stone, that when we wake up, he’ll be gone. How she knows Father goes where the wild things are.


Karen Crawford lives and writes in the City of Angels. Her work has appeared in Cheap Pop, Maudlin House, Reflex Fiction, and elsewhere. Follow her on Twitter at @KarenCrawford_
Photo Credit: Thomas Hawk

5 Responses to “Wild Thing”

  1. James rodruuigez says:

    This is amazing ;]

  2. Mark says:

    A fun mix of childhood fantasy and adult reality.

  3. Liza Ramirez says:

    As Mother moves slow and steady! #winning-
    Great short…

  4. Anita Anastasi says:

    You my dear have a great way with words. So interesting & truth!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *