Hunt & Peck Publishing
101 Avenue of Avenues
New York, NY 10001
September 8, 2015
Paige Turner
2 Common Place
Crimea River, NJ 08080
Dear Ms. Turner,
Thank you for your submission. Unfortunately, it does not meet our present requirements. We wish you luck with other publishers.
I am born.
Bright lights. Concerned faces.
“Look, at the eye! Doctor? The right eye is crossed.”
“Don’t worry. In laymen’s terms it’s called a lazy eye. The weakened muscle can be corrected.”
“What a shame! Such a pretty blue.”
I’m blue.
Though the modern generation is more sensitive to cultural appropriation and its negative implications, one minority still finds themselves a major victim to this theft of customs and styles. Vampires.
Since the days of Bram Stoker’s classic fabrication of the undead, vampires have been portrayed only as mortals saw them, not as they truly are. Though they were unflatteringly represented, vampires were happy not to have the spotlight cast of their culture. Until the Goths came along with their blatant misappropriations.
1.
He looks like a trout. Or at least, he has the kind of facial expression that you’d think a trout might have. If the trout were on a train, that is. Pursed lips, pale skin as if he’s not used to coming out into the light, one of those creatures of the deep. A baseball cap pulled down low, snakey hips. The first class carriage is almost empty, just myself in one of the big chairs along the side with my own table, and snakey-hip trout-face, sitting at the big four-seat table near the door, thumbing his mobile phone.
I think I fancy him.
He’s wearing a tracksuit, this prominent cheekboned lad, all bright colours, red and white reflecting back from the dark window like there’s two of him, a team mate, perhaps, in whatever sport the tracksuit advertises. He looks confused as he fumbles with his phone, and the tracksuit makes his body shapeless and crumpled. I can only guess at its proper shape and definition. Oh no, Troutface is now making a phone call.
Skyrocketing numbers of obese Americans have triggered an epidemic of type-2 diabetes leading to deteriorating health for millions, so I’m supporting the legislative proposal to make wearing the newest Apple Watch obligatory. With bouquet-recognition and hand-motion monitoring, the timepiece’s diet mode automatically senses what you’re eating and the mouthfuls you’ve taken, alerting you when your permissible calorie threshold is approaching. Should you exceed your limit or, God forbid, someone tempts you by placing a crème brûlée within sniffing distance, the stage-one feedback response zaps your wrist with an electric shock.
They were standing in the kitchen by their mugs, waiting to pour hot water onto tea bags, even though as the poster above the sink reminded them, ‘A watched kettle never boils!’ There had been a flurry of stuff to get sent away that morning, and now the pair of them were enjoying the sudden calm of a post-deadline lull.
Behind them, Muriel was discussing the security protocols of online sign-up pages with someone.
‘I’m not a robot!’ she giggled. ‘To prove it, they always ask you to “select all the images that contain a bridge or road sign” or something. But I always find that at least one or two of these pics are a fuzzy area for me. Is that a road sign there in the background in that square, or doesn’t that one count? Which means I could get locked out if I get it wrong – but surely actually proves I’m all too human!!’