Miguel Garcia
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Stories (2)
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The Pursuit of Happiness
Pops, Sammy, and I are on the road to Culver City. There is a small bank there. Pop saved his overflowing happiness there many years ago back when he and Mom were at their happiest. They decided to save some for a rainy day. We don’t have any of those anymore; we just get ashes. The cloud has been covering the Sun for years. I guess the sky lost its happiness too, like most of us. The ashes are nothing more than dry tears that stick to us and remind us of all we have lost.
By Miguel Garcia5 years ago in Fiction
What It actually is
It lights a candle, all the illumination it is permitted in its small abode. It shuffles to its bed and lays down. It sighs as it remembers its daily routine. Honesty: the others revealed their innermost darkest truths at it, reveling in describing its birthed failures, its fated uselessness, and its entrenched frustrations. Relief: it approached its designated hole and proceeded to perform the mandated acts of physical humiliation. Faith: it listened to regurgitated absolutes of its divinely appointed place in society.
By Miguel Garcia5 years ago in Fiction
