a Half-K finalist from Issue 35.1


The clowns are leaving soon


by Megan Moriarty


It’s good to know that pointing a BB gun at the window of a nearby
building could lead to shattered glass, a waterfall of collapsing, and that
weeks later, when he finally tells someone that he shot the window, he
still can’t shake the thought that he was a better person when he was
a kid, that eleven-year-old him would have walked over to the build-
ing, rang the doorbell and said, while staring at his feet, that I’m sorry
but, um, I shot your window
, and every lawn he’d mow, every dog he’d
walk, and every paper he’d deliver would be donated to the Get the
Building a New Window fund. Instead, he put the gun down and left
the room, asked his girlfriend how her day was, and marveled at her
Chihuahua’s stubbornness, the way the dog will stand beside an open
door, place one paw outside and look up at him, as if to say that at any
moment, this life they’ve built could be forever altered, and what else
could they do but start running, down the stairwell, out into the street,
where the afternoon sky looks like a circus act, lit up like a carousel to
signify that life is changing, the Argentinian clowns are leaving West
Virginia, their limited knowledge of English leading them to use sound
effects when they try to explain complex things, such as the way it will
feel when their plane arrives at its destination, the fact that they’ll be
home but somewhere else, the same but different.


2 Responses to Megan Moriarty

  1. Robert Scott says:

    Wonderful line breaks and fine imagery–wish I’d written it. Keep writing.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>

Set your Twitter account name in your settings to use the TwitterBar Section.