All Consonants

By David Erlewine
100 words


Will from next door always glances as he strides by.

He glares at Mom’s friend, Amos, whenever he comes to party. Then Will sighs at my closed window and says things like “your mom blows.”

Here he waits for my two decent fingers to assemble magnetized Scrabble letters onto the little device affixed to my chest. It was the oldest model they had; my only gift for stroking out on Meth.

I know he has to get to work bagging groceries but I’m having trouble.

Last week my younger brother stole another letter, the final “u”.

I’m all consonants now.




David Erlewine’s fiction appears or is forthcoming in Tuesday Shorts, Pedestal Magazine, decomP, Monkeybicycle, and a variety of other print/web journals.

His sad little website is www.whizbyfiction.blogspot.com