Shari’s 33rd Annual New Year’s Day Bash by Michael Brockley Captain Wah Wah’s grandchildren, Sophie and Dylan, jitterbug across the hardwood floor of the dining room, switching partners between their parents and aunts. Chairs arrayed along the wall, the dinner table dismantled and tucked inside a workroom. On stage, Ben sews dead flowers in the Pancho and Lefty gospel. The bandit polished his guns for the underground queen to see. As dusk arrives, Dylan shivers into the skin of music, and starlight flickers at Sophie’s feet while she chants Cabbage stew for money; black-eyed peas for luck. She strews rose petals among the guests. Shortbread cookies cool in the kitchen. Orange-and-brandy cake. Apple-cranberry-walnut pie. One of the aunts spins Dylan head-to-toe around her waist as Shari sings “You Ain’t Goin' Nowhere.” Sophie twirls at the ends of Captain Wah Wah's fingers. Oh, oh, are we gonna fly/Down in my easy chair. Those of us who applaud snack on grapes left over f
Flying Island is the Online Literary Journal of the Indiana Writers Center, accepting submissions from Midwest residents and those with significant ties to the Midwest.