Rose Esposito
Stories (11/0)
Endomerimnasturm
It's especially strong at night, the squall within her head turning sleep into a faraway island, impossible to reach through the arcing, crashing waves. The hours stretch out, out to an untouchable horizon, darkness and nothingness and no one else left living in the world but her. And then suddenly the light between the curtains is pale lavender and orange and she has slept, somehow – and instantly it's back, floodwater lapping her chin: something's wrong. Before she is even half-awake, before she can formulate a clear thought, there is simply the wordless, shapeless sense: something bad is going to happen. You're failing. You're sinking.
By Rose Esposito7 months ago in Fiction
The Human Resource
"Sixty seconds," she whispered, and I brought my gloved hands to the gleaming cylinder. The war effort had consumed every available shard of glass, so we'd improvised with other delicate materials – leaves, wax, even some frogs' eggs we'd found – to rehearse this, over and over. Your fingers are water, I reminded myself. The lightest possible touch.
By Rose Esposito11 months ago in Fiction
- Runner-Up in the Under a Spell Challenge
Traveler
Eight was probably too old for a wacky straw, Lissie decided, as the smiling waiter approached her poolside chaise lounge with her second Pineapple Dream Surprise of the day. She thanked him and waited until he'd left before removing the blue plastic spiral from the tall, frosted cup and, after licking off the creamy yellow slush, setting it on the low table beside her, next to her magazine. She glanced over the rim of the cup as she sipped it, her plastic heart-shaped sunglasses hiding her observant eyes – did everyone get one? Maybe it was just part of the resort's sense of humor. Where the Sun Never Sets on Family Fun! was printed under the arcing dolphin logo on every staff member's shirt, every menu, all the paper sleeves that were replaced every day, without fail, around the drinking glasses in their hotel room bathroom.
By Rose Espositoabout a year ago in Fiction
- Runner-Up in Ship of Dreams Challenge
MaidenRunner-Up in Ship of Dreams Challenge
The ship's lower levels were a dizzying maze of corridors that seemed to me, at least in my desperate and sleep-deprived state, intentionally designed to punish anyone with a third-class ticket. Hey, you get what you pay for, it said. But Alba, level-headed as ever, just read the gleaming signs on the walls and followed the arrows right to our cabin door.
By Rose Esposito2 years ago in Fiction
Fledglings
My dashboard clock hasn't worked in months, but according to my phone it's three of. I barely made it to the funeral, now I'll barely make it today. A therapist once told me that being late a lot is a sign of passive aggression, and when it happens I should try to figure out what I resent about whatever I'm going to. That might have been the case yesterday, but this was my idea and I lay awake for ages last night thinking about how it would go and what to say, so maybe it's just how I am. I quit those sessions not long after that.
By Rose Esposito2 years ago in Fiction
Project Itzamna
Ruby and Carmine stepped out of the unit and, seeing one another's wide-eyed expression behind their visors, knew that they were thinking the same thing: all those hours logged in the simulator hadn't truly prepared them for the experience of the rainforest after all. It hadn't adequately recreated the powerful humidity, for one thing — they were wearing top-grade masks, of course, as it definitely wouldn't do to introduce germs from their environment into this one, or to take any back — but the thick wetness of the air hit them both through their suits like a solid weight.
By Rose Esposito3 years ago in Fiction
Remain
Relief flooded over Jane when she saw the empty lot and knew that she had the lake to herself. The picnicking families had long since herded the kids back into the car and left, ready to wash off the grass stains and whatever was in those leaf piles; the early-evening joggers were at home with their glasses of wine and a cozy sense of accomplishment. Sometimes kids came here after dark, leaving behind noisy laughter, crushed cans and the haze of smoky kisses. The night had been illuminated with firecrackers and ghoulish glee a few nights ago, on Halloween, but tonight the spot was quiet but for the wind in the trees and skimming the surface of the lake.
By Rose Esposito3 years ago in Fiction
- First Place in SFS 3: Brown Paper Box Challenge
SeedFirst Place in SFS 3: Brown Paper Box Challenge
Another part of the roof in the corner bedroom fell in early this morning. The almighty crash from two floors above tore me out of a deep sleep, cocooned within the thin blankets on the pallet, and set my heart racing; usually it is the sounds of dawn, birdsong and breeze, that bring me back to myself. Moments later the burst of terror faded and I remembered the sound of two days' rain as it rushed through the gaping hole and, I knew, softened the scorched beams, eating away at the house's exposed skeleton. I imagine mold blossoming on the remaining ceiling, racing down the walls, my sole living companion now. Or perhaps small creatures have found their way inside, using shreds of her once-fine clothes to line their nest in a sheltered corner of the hall.
By Rose Esposito3 years ago in Fiction