My Mother the Ghost
Yet another beautiful story up at Fantasy, this one by Willow Fagan, called My Mother the Ghost. How can you not love a story that starts like this?
I was eleven years old when I realized that my mother was a ghost. I can remember the exact moment of this realization, but I wish I could better explain how it came about. It was like I had all these broken pieces of the truth, like shards of a white bowl, and in one moment, the pieces flew together, reforming the bowl, like the instant of its shattering running in reverse.
One comment
(I totally read this as My Mother The Goat!)