THE TREE IN FRONT OF ME stood alone in the small garden, its limbs stretched upward as veins spreading through the air. I looked around me. No one was watching. The tree seemed sturdy enough to climb—a solitary, ornate “I” at the beginning of a story. I caught the lowest branch, swung my legs over it, [...]
Out on a Limb
by Melonie Cannon
September Morn
by Melonie Cannon
Dawn rides the morning air over silent houses and abandoned gardens, flickering light along the edge of the windowsill, ushering in my grandmother’s fearful cry. Like a crumbling yellow leaf dropping suddenly from an ancient oak, the stillness shudders and startles me from my dreams. I find her, golden, warm and white. Eyes, closed as [...]
The Skin I’m In
by Melonie Cannon
Like ripening raspberries, red welts raised their fiery heads on my skin. I was at war and my skin was the enemy. I was very young, but I remember holding my limp arms in front of my father and pleading with him to make the pain go away. It seemed he was the only one [...]
Knock and It Shall Be Opened Unto You
by Melonie Cannon
THE CATHEDRAL ROSE MASSIVELY from its city block like a monolith to tradition and ceremony. I had come to interview for a teaching position at a private Catholic choir school. That summer, I had interviewed for at least twenty teaching positions with no success. I had taken long-term substituting jobs, continued on to graduate school, and [...]