Kavi Warrick
Bio
There's a moment where all the words try to come out all at once, and it's either beautifully chaotic or decidedly blank.
Stories (20)
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I play with kids
His name is JJ, he is 2 years old, with a smile that goes ear to ear. His skin is dark brown, his eyes are light brown, and he laughs with his whole face scrunched together, and his arms flailing. I am a first-year preschool teacher with textbook knowledge and zero real world skills. Barely out of high school, less than 6 months in a classroom, just finding my feet. Up until JJ, I had been having fun, still shocked that someone was giving me a paycheck to play with kids. My days are hugs and giggles, diapers and circle time, patting backs and reading books. I think, my job is cool, I thought, sure I can do this as a career.
By Kavi Warrick4 years ago in Education
Two Turtle Doves
“Four Calling Birds Three French Hens Two Turtle Doves And a Partridge in a Pear Tree…” The last strands of the familiar carol wafted from the stage, sticky sweet jazz notes that dripped like honey from the mouth of Atlanta’s premiere dive bar baroness. I tipped my glass in the band’s direction, quietly saluting them as the pre recorded Christmas tunes started pumping through the bar. The bass player acknowledged, and for a moment we were bearded brothers, kindred spirits under shitty lighting.
By Kavi Warrick4 years ago in Humans
There's a body in the pond
There’s a body in the pond. A body in the pond. In the pond. In the pond… The mantra beat like a brass drum, reverberating between my ears as a steady pulsating accusation. Of course no one knew that, how could they, how could anyone know? The pond was cloudy with frozen air, crystals blinking in the late afternoon sun. I dragged in a mouthful of air, sliding one foot cautiously out onto the ice. It was the shortest way home, I reminded myself again, sliding a little bit further. Now there’s a body on the pond. A body on the bond. On the pond. On the pond… I frowned. This was no time to be funny brain.
By Kavi Warrick4 years ago in Fiction
Green Light Diner
She had worked at the Green Light diner for 8 years. 8 long, insufferable years of over easy eggs, barely cooked bacon and suspiciously salty ham sandwiches. The coffee was the perfect combination of gritty sludge and molten lava, and the plastic that cracked over the bursting booth seats was yellowing at the edges. She came each day at 4am, right as the night shift was wrapping up, and just before the morning rush of truckers, flaggers, and loggers. Her entire working career could be illustrated in one simple phrase. “Whatcha get?”
By Kavi Warrick4 years ago in Fiction
Wide Blue Expanse
There were stories passed down from our ancestors, stories of a wide blue expanse, buffeted by wind, teaming with life, where natural predators were rare. We swam as far and as fast as the waves and currents would take us. We rested when the hunt drained our energy, rested when the storms raged across the water, rested when the current slowed our frenzied progress. Then we hunted, our dominance spreading over miles, our presence felt in the tremors of the water rushing behind us. Nothing that swam in the deep was safe from our gaze, fish fueled us, and we devastated shoals from coastline to inlet. Our ancestors hunted together, the water bore our numbers and swallowed our refuse. Then as the stories go, solitude became our path, each to their own waters, their own territory, their own beaches with sandy shores and slow currents. Those were the stories, the ones that we felt in our bones, behind our eyes, deep in our souls.
By Kavi Warrick4 years ago in Earth
Waver
Swirly gray clouds moved inch by inch across the colorless sky, you could only really tell they moved at all if you were perfectly still, straining your eyes towards the heavens. It was a simple thing, but it was worth remembering that nature continues to move as if nothing had happened. There was flagrant defiance in the slow moving clouds, whispers of arrogance in the full grey sky that teased at rain. There would be no rain, but the sky wanted you to remember, in its own cruel way it wanted you to hope.
By Kavi Warrick5 years ago in Fiction
