Read Online Kiss of Broken Glass by Madeleine Kuderick - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Madeleine Kuderick
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whatever.
And don’t worry.
I don’t expect you to fix me.
But I was sort of thinking maybe
you could do some of that God stuff,
with your hands on my head or whatever,
and just make the pain a little looser,
so it doesn’t always feel like a jacket
wrapped around me so tight.
And maybe you could do that for Skylar, too.
That would be good.
Then I try to remember how
prayers are supposed to end,
with lay me down to sleep,
and souls to keep , and all that
other nursery rhyme stuff,
but that doesn’t seem to fit.
So finally, I just say Thanks, God,
and I roll over on my pillow.
Then, the strangest thing happens.
I don’t see angels or hear harps
or feel the hand of God
slipping into my life
just when I need him.
The lightbulb doesn’t flicker
and Colin Krusher doesn’t materialize
through the air duct ( dammit ).
It’s nothing like that.
It’s way more subtle.
And I’m sure some people
would say it’s all in my head.
But all I can say is that it does feel
like my troubles are looser somehow,
like the jacket isn’t zipped
to my chin anymore.
And it’s not like I jump
up and down on the bed yelling,
Holy crap!
It worked.
But I say it to myself.
Real quiet.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
My Dream on the Third Night
So take a guess where I am.
Dark country road.
Electric purple sky.
Yada yada yada.
And here comes that freaking white horse.
Only this time, she’s sort of still.
Like she’s thinking about something.
And I’m calm too, scanning the road.
Waiting for somebody.
And I know they’re coming
because I feel so inflated,
it’s like I’m walking on helium.
Then Jag rolls up on his RipStik
and I can tell right away,
he’s the one I’ve been waiting for,
because my heart floats even higher
and we seem to talk without words.
He sees a patch of flowers by the road,
white fairy orchids growing wild,
and he smiles that crooked smile
and leans to pick one for me.
And then, here’s where the dream goes to shit.
When Jag stands back up,
there’s a sea of spiders at his feet,
so many spiders that it looks like
the ground is moving.
And in fact, the ground is moving.
It’s opening up like the mouth of a sinkhole
and Jag is losing his footing and spiraling in,
and the last thing I see before it swallows him up,
are the five pointed petals of white fairy orchid
spilling to the ground like falling stars.
The horse is going ballistic now.
She’s bucking and snorting and
making all kinds of terrible sounds
that should never come out of an animal.
She rears away from the fence again and again,
but in the end she tears her flesh across the barbs.
I run to her and throw my arms around her neck.
I try to stop the bleeding but the harder I squeeze,
the more the blood flows. It’s like a stream spilling
down the horse’s shoulders, splashing to the earth.
I pull off my jacket and press the cloth against her skin.
I can hear her heavy breath and feel her deep, dark pulse
throbbing beneath my fingers. Like we’re connected.
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump .
Then I feel something shift.
And suddenly I’m not holding the horse anymore.
I look down only to discover that I’m
pressing the jacket against my own arm,
feeling the beat of my own pulse,
watching the cloth turn red,
under the light of the moon.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
I Wake Up
So that’s it?
That’s what the dream means?
I’m the freaking horse?
I storm out of the bedroom and
head straight to Ding Dong’s desk.
“Did you dream about them teeth again?” she asks.
I shake my head and start ranting.
This time I don’t hold anything back.
Not one single detail.
I figure Ding Dong’s going to make a big deal
about all the dark images like the black
And don’t worry.
I don’t expect you to fix me.
But I was sort of thinking maybe
you could do some of that God stuff,
with your hands on my head or whatever,
and just make the pain a little looser,
so it doesn’t always feel like a jacket
wrapped around me so tight.
And maybe you could do that for Skylar, too.
That would be good.
Then I try to remember how
prayers are supposed to end,
with lay me down to sleep,
and souls to keep , and all that
other nursery rhyme stuff,
but that doesn’t seem to fit.
So finally, I just say Thanks, God,
and I roll over on my pillow.
Then, the strangest thing happens.
I don’t see angels or hear harps
or feel the hand of God
slipping into my life
just when I need him.
The lightbulb doesn’t flicker
and Colin Krusher doesn’t materialize
through the air duct ( dammit ).
It’s nothing like that.
It’s way more subtle.
And I’m sure some people
would say it’s all in my head.
But all I can say is that it does feel
like my troubles are looser somehow,
like the jacket isn’t zipped
to my chin anymore.
And it’s not like I jump
up and down on the bed yelling,
Holy crap!
It worked.
But I say it to myself.
Real quiet.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
My Dream on the Third Night
So take a guess where I am.
Dark country road.
Electric purple sky.
Yada yada yada.
And here comes that freaking white horse.
Only this time, she’s sort of still.
Like she’s thinking about something.
And I’m calm too, scanning the road.
Waiting for somebody.
And I know they’re coming
because I feel so inflated,
it’s like I’m walking on helium.
Then Jag rolls up on his RipStik
and I can tell right away,
he’s the one I’ve been waiting for,
because my heart floats even higher
and we seem to talk without words.
He sees a patch of flowers by the road,
white fairy orchids growing wild,
and he smiles that crooked smile
and leans to pick one for me.
And then, here’s where the dream goes to shit.
When Jag stands back up,
there’s a sea of spiders at his feet,
so many spiders that it looks like
the ground is moving.
And in fact, the ground is moving.
It’s opening up like the mouth of a sinkhole
and Jag is losing his footing and spiraling in,
and the last thing I see before it swallows him up,
are the five pointed petals of white fairy orchid
spilling to the ground like falling stars.
The horse is going ballistic now.
She’s bucking and snorting and
making all kinds of terrible sounds
that should never come out of an animal.
She rears away from the fence again and again,
but in the end she tears her flesh across the barbs.
I run to her and throw my arms around her neck.
I try to stop the bleeding but the harder I squeeze,
the more the blood flows. It’s like a stream spilling
down the horse’s shoulders, splashing to the earth.
I pull off my jacket and press the cloth against her skin.
I can hear her heavy breath and feel her deep, dark pulse
throbbing beneath my fingers. Like we’re connected.
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump .
Then I feel something shift.
And suddenly I’m not holding the horse anymore.
I look down only to discover that I’m
pressing the jacket against my own arm,
feeling the beat of my own pulse,
watching the cloth turn red,
under the light of the moon.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
I Wake Up
So that’s it?
That’s what the dream means?
I’m the freaking horse?
I storm out of the bedroom and
head straight to Ding Dong’s desk.
“Did you dream about them teeth again?” she asks.
I shake my head and start ranting.
This time I don’t hold anything back.
Not one single detail.
I figure Ding Dong’s going to make a big deal
about all the dark images like the black
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