Meg Sefton's Blog, page 16

The Humans

Street scene by Jean-Philippe Rebuffet, flickr

The Humans is a dark, atmospheric movie, a tale of unease, about three generations who gather together in a pre-war Manhattan apartment for a holiday meal. Though it is billed as a horror-comedy, it doesn’t quite match this description. There is lightness at times, but only in relation to the more interior and pain-filled moments portrayed by increasingly claustrophobic shots. I didn’t know what this movie was at first but became spellbound with each new scene, each new turn of the plot. Part of what captivated me is the way sound is used—the muted effect of conversations and the occasional silence as well as the disturbing noises of a very old building. It is all a slow burn. I feel the idea of it—the realities it portrays—is very “now” though it is timeless as well—the darkness, the starkness of a contingent existence, a yearning for hope, light, and connection. Amy Schumer does a magnificent job in this dramatic role. The cast is stellar. I highly recommend it.

Streaming on Amazon Prime

Twelve Nights by Urs Faes

I love writing seasonal fiction. But even more than this, I love reading seasonal fiction. This novella is set in the snowy and haunted landscape of Europe’s Black Forest during the time between Christmas and Epiphany. A man returns to his childhood home to figure out what has become of his estranged brother, rumored to have fallen into a depression after the death of his wife. It is a beautiful immersion into the natural world and an exploration of mystery, storytelling, and tradition.

More about Hoppin’ John

This is a wonderful presentation of the Southern tradition of Hoppin’ John at New Year’s—its history and the dish’s components. And when you eat leftovers the following day, it’s called Skippin’ Jenny and stands for extra good luck because it shows you are thrifty and don’t want to waste what you have. Whatever your food traditions, may your new year find new opportunities for exploration and community. —Margaret

Happy 2022!

Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash

Happy New Year! I’ve decided to start the first weekend of the year by submitting fiction to literary journals. Since mid-December, I’ve submitted eight stories to eight journals. May we all turn a productive new leaf past the pandemic mayhem! Be well. —Margaret

New Year’s Eve

What are you up to? I’m enjoying a Guinness and cooking up some Hoppin’ John, that southern New Year’s tradition. I hope mine turns out. I’m not used to soaking black-eyed peas. The few times I’ve made it, I’ve used canned. Also, I bought a ham hock, which is new for me. I need all this for good luck! If I bomb, I will be desperately tracking the dish or a can of peas down tomorrow, lols. Be well. And Happy New Year. —Margaret

Update: It’s made, and it’s a success! Yay!

hoppin’ John by Jen R, flickr

The Body

Coffin by Bart Everson, flickr

The body is in a bag. The body is on a cart. The body rolls out of the living room. It rolls past people who are eating and getting drunk. The body rolls by the family pictures. The body rolls through the kitchen. The body bumps over the threshold to the garage. The body rolls past the family cars. The body rolls past the hedge trimmed just last week. The body rolls by the neighborhood children. The body stops so a child might tie a red balloon to the cart. The body bumps down the sidewalk. A girl showers it with flowers. The body sits next to a homeless man for a while. The man unzips the bag and relieves the body of its wedding band. The body leaves the man behind and zooms through the traffic. The body runs a red light. Cars careen around the body. There is screeching, smashing, crunching, grinding, someone screaming, metal and glass flying.

The body goes to a museum. It rolls past the canvases thick with paint, heavy with fevered dreams. The body visits animals at the zoo. It is shat upon by a monkey who tries to feed it peanuts where a mouth should be. The body rolls past a river where it races a barge filled with coal. At the dock, the body is saluted by a soldier. At the church, it is hurriedly blessed by a Father who sprinkles holy water on the shitty body bag. Downtown, a whore straddles the body and gets off. A dope dealer smuggles his stash under the torso.

At the hospital, nurses shake their heads knowingly as the body rolls through the halls and out the exit. At the bank, the teller willingly gives over all of the money to the body she’s so frightened. The money flies out of the surrendered bag as the body flies down the street. Men and women and children take what they can. The children buy candy. The men and women go to bars, take their spouses out, plan parties.

The body crushes a wife beater. The body rolls over a rapist. The body cuts a politician off at the knees. The body goes to a concert. He rolls through a mosh pit. He helps carry a crowd surfer. The concert goers find the dope and are grateful. The body gets arrested. The body gets put in jail. The body busts out and goes on the lamb.

The body finds a family who needs a body, a family who isn’t upset by a body but who just wants some other body to hang out with somewhere on the outskirts of town where a body can be a somebody and not the nobody which many would have him believe he is.

First appeared at The New Absurdist and later, Bizarro Central, Flash Fiction Fridays

The Beautiful Game (900 words) — Slumdog Soldier

My father, who is now a retired minister, frequently incorporated this story into his sermons. It is beautifully told by this blogger. I know my father would love this post. You can read more about my father here. He wrote a wonderful book about the Biblical figure of Joseph, tying in his own history and the history of our family. He and my mother, a former English teacher, gave me a love of language. I wouldn’t be writing my stories and publishing pieces on my blog were it not for their influence on my life. I encourage you to read the story of my father and his work and follow this amazing blog post. I wish you a holiday of peace and joy, wherever you are. —Margaret

The guns had fallen silent, but soon they would be pounding again, shaking the earth, shaking the rats out of their holes, making the dead tremble out in No Man’s Land. Christmas Day, yet nothing to show for it – no snow, no laughter, no celebration. Nothing to celebrate. Rags of torn clothing hung on […]

The Beautiful Game (900 words) — Slumdog Soldier

Good morning

Good morning. This is nice. Have a good day. —Margaret

my own submission workshop

Santa’s Workshop by Pierce Place, flickr

Since December 13, I’ve submitted six of my stories to six literary journals, and I’m so excited. The origin of one of the stories dates back to about fifteen years ago, though it has evolved over time. Other stories are more recent. I used to submit stories to several journals on the first pass, but these days I try to be more targeted and really try to figure out which journals would be best suited for my work. I have become braver about submitting work. And although rejection stings a little, self-acceptance and a can-do attitude cover a multitude of woe-is-me’s.

Maybe I’ll settle down for my long winter’s nap, but this is good work for now.

White dragon

Photo by Rock Vincent Guitard on Unsplash

A woman kept a dragon in her closet. In the summer, it was a deep charcoal and in winter, it turned white as snow, like a polar bear. The dragon curled up at the foot of the woman’s bed at night and kept her feet warm with its breath and during the day in winter it roasted chestnuts with its fire so that the woman could make pies and cookies for the children. If a child came by during the day and she and the dragon had just roasted a chestnut, the woman would crack the nut open with her mouth and hand the pulp to the child. She would put a finger up to her mouth and say “shhhh.” Children who told people the woman had a dragon wouldn’t get a chestnut or a ride on the dragon at Christmas and the woman would always know if the children told. The children were a little afraid of the woman, but they were fascinated by the dragon and would do anything to stay in her good graces. One Christmas, Luka fell of the dragon’s back when it came time for his holiday ride, and that’s when they knew Luka had told, that he had been bad, and that he would have to wait another year for a ride. Lucy rode this Christmas on the dragon with Ms. Nettie, the old woman. They rode over Lucy’s old neighborhood where her father still lived, but with his new family. Ms. Nettie knew what this was about without the child speaking a word. When they got home, Ms. Nettie pressed a gold coin into the child’s palm and told her to keep it forever. Lucy hugged the old woman who smelled of burnt things. That night, Ms. Nettie put a blessing on the coin and the dragon lit a candle for her.