Serafina Spedetti
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The Reversal
I am Ryan. I am writing this before I become too young to do it. See, mental faculties would not be affected by the reversal at first. If anything they would be improved, experiences and notions and memories now carving their way into younger brain cells, supple and thirsty like sea sponges. I am as wise as you might expect from someone my venerable age, 159. But the physical faculties, oh well, those would follow the biological clock to the minute since the moment the needle entered your arm, just in reverse. If you are a 5R-year-old, as I am, it won’t be long before you lose the ability to write. It’s not that you’ll forget; your hand will just not know how to coordinate its thirty-plus muscles into the holding of a pen, and eventually you’ll go back to scribbles and doodles, squiggling in your high chair to grab the pencil in front of you. By that time, the neural scaffolding supporting your thoughts and intentions will be a quarter of its original size and will be faltering and crumbling under the weight of too many firing synapses, mercifully returning you to its original blank slate. It is the most humiliating thing, I was told by those younger than me, and those final years are the ones everyone fears the most. But you know, by now I have seen so many people die helplessly wrapped in swaddling clothes --- not only family and friends but movie stars, presidents, and dictators --- that I don’t feel any fear or self-pity anymore.
By Serafina Spedetti5 years ago in Fiction
The richest dog in the world
I am not really the richest dog in the world, that was to get your attention. I am certainly not the late Gunther the Third, may he fetch forever in the prairies of heaven, the German shepherd who got 65 million from his human when she passed away. And not even one of those Oprah Winfrey's canines who are poised to inherit a $30 million trust fund when the time comes. In my case, it’s just $20,000.
By Serafina Spedetti5 years ago in Petlife
Smells like teen spirit
The first time I heard Smells like teen spirit we were having dinner and my father was beating the shit out of my mother. The TV was on, and some talking head was expressing his solemn contempt for the “senseless anthem of an apathetic generation.” On the screen, pon pon girls with hairy armpits bounced up and down, while Kurt Cobain’s scream grew louder and more desperate: a denial, a denial, a denial…
By Serafina Spedetti5 years ago in Horror
