n i c k    a n t o s c a

Idle Thoughts


Blood, dirt, sky. My life was ridiculous. Not in a slapstick way, though. Some stories just go beyond the merely lurid or grotesque; then with a dazed grin you face absurdity. All my memories are supersaturated by color.

I was fifteen the afternoon I saw my brother kill my little sister in the cornfield. He buried her with her doll. I was watching from the upstairs bedroom where Iíd been chained to the radiator, but enough about that.

How come I never got to try lobster?

In an unrelated incident, my father died by hanging. My mother, best not to mention.

At least three times I did have crawfish, which I liked.

And I did own a bluetick hound, that was something.

Still, though.

They didnít even bury him with me.



NICK ANTOSCA's first novel, Fires, comes out from Impetus Press in winter 2006. His writing has appeared in The Barcelona Review, Hustler, Yankee Pot Roast, The Antietam Review, The Paumanok Review, The Adirondack Review, Retort Magazine, Opium, and others. He graduated from college with a useless film degree in 2005.