Tales of the Storage Space, Part 77

Imogene was laughing so hard over the shots ^URS was firing at finstagram “sincerity,” in between sending pics with funny Snapshot filters, that Imogene like knocked the effin’ elephant over.

It like clattered to the floor, cray cray noisy with all that shit rattling around inside.  And a leg looked crooked.  Maybe it was like broken.

And just then her phone screen went black, and she like effin’ remembered she’d forgotten to plug it in before going to bed the night before.

“Effin’ battery!”

Imogene jumped, startled at the sound of her own voice echoing around the teeny storage unit.  That made whatever was inside the elephant rattle more.

Then there was silence.

Imogene like forgot about the battery and looked back at her phone, all ready to laugh at something new from ^URS.

Only darkness.

Normally she’d like run out of there as effin’ fast as she could and like ask the first person she saw if they had a cord so she could recharge.

But she like had to get at least some of those effin’ carvings out of that effin’ storage space or her effin’ father would kill her.

But she couldn’t move.  She felt so strange.  The walls, the carvings…they were all…like…staring at her.  Everything in RL was so…big.  So…not in her hand.

And she was even starting to hear things, like stumbling noises, and she was sure she heard some guy say, “Clumsy, Hank, clumsy.”

Then she started to see them, the Snapchat filters all over the walls, all over the carvings.  She laughed at Snapchat’s bunny ears on one of the carvings.  She felt much better.

Only thing was, they were all the same color:  a weird, misty green.

Must Read

You May Also Like

Barnett Berger

Barnett Berger: No Two Snowflakes

The poem below is by Barnett Berger. No Two Snowflakes No two snowflakes are alike No object from sky to earth Could possibly be identical We don’t know the sky’s influence in formation We don’t know the objects encountered on the downward ride And we don’t know the impact on…
Read More
Barnett Berger

Barnett Berger: For Losers

The poem below is by Barnett Berger. For Losers Quest for a vision The morning of awareness Dawn of the ocean The sweet, loving spaces of intimacy Whispered caresses Suntanned kisses Words calming and mirroring faith Now replaced by grunts Harmonic ostinatos Shouting through hollow bones Anger carrying stormy divisions…
Read More
Barnett Berger

Barnett Berger: A Rare Soul

In a community of Brooklyn writers, it is perhaps fitting that Barnett Berger was first met on a bus route, the No. 71, which no longer exists.  He was carrying an old book that likely shares the same fate. He explained that he spoke slowly because he’d suffered a stroke. …
Read More
MY BOOKS

On The Road, Pittsburra: SFWA 2017 Nebula Awards Conference

All right, all right, it’s not Pittsburra, but rather Pittsburgh, but the last five letters are the same as in Edinburgh… Anyway, long ago I could have become an active member of “SIF-wuh.”  (Speaking of pronunciation, that’s how they say SFWA, which stands for Science Fiction Writers of America.)  But I…
Read More
Menu