House of Mirrors

When I was five, and there wasn’t much left, my mother took me to the Perth County Fall Fair. There was a petting zoo. For a dollar, a donkey with a slumped spine and flies in its ass carried me around its sawdust pen . . .

Author of the Month: Andrew Pyper

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Tell us about yourself. I was born in Stratford, Ontario, forty-four years ago, to parents who were recent immigrants to Canada from Northern Ireland. From as soon as I learned handwriting, I’ve been writing stories. It was never seen as a potential career, it was just something I did because I liked it, and because it afforded me a special privacy, a safe place from the bruises and shames of everyday life . . .

Golden

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Tanks crawling through my city, right there, close, behind the window. I’m on the floor, face down, buried in the carpet my brother took his first steps on. It’s not only scary at twelve, it’s made clear . . .

Collection

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When I was little I had an amusing game of cataloguing ways to die. Some were boring, run-of-the-mill suicides, like hanging, drowning, etc. Some stemmed from ancient torture practices, like being sat naked on a bamboo shoot and dead within a day because of the plant’s incredible growth rate . . .

Foreign

I’ll hold my tongue. Against yours, against all odds, look: open mouth and it pours. Your tongue— stiff, unfamiliar with my language— how it moves around shapes. Little details wander into your life, spread themselves out on the table, buzzing . . .

Letter

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Dear Alex, If I could, I would go back, just to relive those moments. Those one hundred days of bliss, where nothing mattered but the time we spent together. The plains of the countryside had never looked so beautiful; I would never see them the same way again . . .

The World around Me

The issues of this world baffles me The facts and the statistics that are transparent to all reaffirm the fact that we dwell in a world filled with ignorance It is possible to channel my thoughts to the expertise of a professor that conducts multiple researches about the stunning overrepresentation of minorities in prison Or the fact that the gap between the rich and the poor will no longer shrink to create a sense of unity Politicians and those that hold supervisory positions refuse to allocate the funds to support the children in need Overburdened taxpayers spend less time with their children as they pick up guns of all sizes to make headline news The terrorists of society scramble in rage to victimize those that fit into the description of a nation I call for a solution Children forced to fight a war just to prove that power can dominate the inhabitants of a state Pumped into their system are all types of drugs just to suppress the anguish of killing a mother with the resemblance of their own Freedom of speech and expression is observed through graffiti of hate and intolerance Teens facing the issues of self esteem with the notion that love multiplies with the subtraction of father figures Face with disgust some of them turn to the solutions of suicide to end the child that murdered a child through abortion I call for a solution Tortured soldiers face a war of orders and loyalty to the state Wars that are blown out of proportion to the ends of the earth and still we struggle to find out who started it in the first place Skins ripped apart with blood and anguish about the deplorable conditions of the trenches Poppies grow to the grave yards of armed forces and they weren’t ready to die in the first place We need a solution Issues of success ring down the minds of normal civilians Media propagates the universal goal of success to the billions Negativity is the result of the pessimistic minds of the millions Words of hope refuses to the linger to the minds of those that are without a solution  . . .

Poverty of Originality

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I am disappointed . . .  Because if we just taught kids to be themselves and original Then juveniles and prison cells would not be visible We all want to fit in, and be appreciated the most But the worst thing that we can hear is somebody saying . . .  . . .

Heathcliff

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To wander aimlessly without you, That is truly the greatest hell on earth. How selfish you are. I loathe you! I love you, the rapid confusion in my heart. We are too much the same being; Living one life, sharing one death . . .