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f723835
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Any place, then, can become a cemetery. All it takes is your body. It's not fair, I think, and I get this petulant wish for ugly flowers and mourners, my mother's old familiar grief. Somebody I love to tend my future grave. Probably this is the wrong thing to be wishing for.
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karen-russell
occurrence-00-422
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Karen Russell |
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ef7f19e
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There's something pitiable and terrifying about the unconscious bully. His crumpled nose and hat. ... This is the first true thing that Brauser and I have ever shared, this fear, besides dog-eared songbooks and cafeteria noodles. I wonder, briefly, if I could eat Brauser if it came to that. At this point, we have been alone on the glacier for fourteen minutes.
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karen-russell
occurrence-00-422
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Karen Russell |
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4cb7a8b
|
"We know that Rangi can at least mutter because Digger Gibson says he used to talk to the bear. In his group home for orphaned Moa boys, Rangi had a pet cinnamon bear. I saw her once. She was just a wet-nosed cub, a cuff of pure white around her neck. Rangi found her on the banks of the Waitiki River and walked her around on a leash. He filed her claws and fed her tiny, smelly fishes. They shot her the day his new father, Digger, came to pick him up. "Burying that bear," I overheard Digger tell Mr. Oamaru once. "The first thing we ever did together as father and son." Rangi's given us this global silent treatment ever since, a silence he extends to people, animals, ice."
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karen-russell
occurrence-00-422
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Karen Russell |
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7c43abd
|
It's unclear whether Brauser was trying to hit Franz Josef or Rangi. I hope it was the former. There's one difference between a bully and a hero, I guess: good aim.
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karen-russell
occurrence-00-422
|
Karen Russell |
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0d61f8e
|
Even at this altitude, the substitute pilot's bathed in sweat, sweat running down his chin and neck. Fear must be the fountain of youth, because the substitute pilot now looks younger than any of us, doughy and flushed with horror.
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karen-russell
occurrence-00-422
|
Karen Russell |
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62044cf
|
"The Avalanche," peacemaker Rachel recites, "is . It's a privilege to sing it. It's a celebration of our past." Everybody around the table smiles at her. "Yeah? Well, I've seen how easily the past can get rewritten." I glare at Mr. Oamaru. "Lyrics change. New authors come along."
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karen-russell
occurrence-00-422
|
Karen Russell |
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b858cb2
|
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karen-russell
occurrence-00-422
|
Bear Grylls |