Suze Kay

Joined June 2021

137 stories

Bio

Pastry chef by day, insomniac writer by night.

Find here: stories that creep up on you, poems to stumble over, and the weird words I hold them in.

Or, let me catch you at www.suzekay.com

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Stories (137)

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Shrouded City
I wake up with a nosebleed. I can smell the smoke inside. I can smell it in my hair, on his skin. In the park, a man eats.
By Suze Kay3 years ago in Poets
Out of Water. Top Story - June 2023.
The tail was a joke, at first. Mom liked giving lavish gifts that no one would use, then got hurt when no one used them. Like the steam cleaner she gave my older brother when he was a college student who didn't even do his own laundry.
By Suze Kay3 years ago in Fiction
Dream Country
Author's note: During World War II, people of Japanese origin were placed in internment camps across the American West. One of those people was the great sumi-e artist Chiura Obata. The following is a work of historical fiction depicting his time in the Topaz Internment Camp, including a violent assault he suffered at the hands of a fellow internee - likely because Obata was seen as an American apologist. Though I have endeavored to make it as factually accurate as possible, I have taken some small liberties. The work was informed by Obata's art, his writing, his family's memories of this time period, the documentary work of his fellow internees, and government records.
By Suze Kay3 years ago in Art
The Understructure: Understanding Sturtevant
Until 2014, Sturtevant was an enigma to the American art world. Her most notorious works, her “repetitions” based off work by her better-known contemporaries, were seen either as curiosities or blasphemy. Like a red-headed stepchild, her name was known but her presence unsolicited. Though her work found much attention in the museums of Europe, she showed only occasionally in American galleries, a painting or two shunted into group exhibitions.
By Suze Kay3 years ago in Art
Through the Window, 2:30 PM. Second Place in Dancing with Distraction Challenge.
Did you find what you were looking for In the Sway of the Trees? Or did you simply Recover your senses, Allow the Curling balloon strands of
By Suze Kay3 years ago in Poets
In the Swell
On the twentieth of June, my son drowned while I got my dick sucked at a cheap motel in Annandale. I faked a call from work and met my ex in the same room as always. I came home late that night to an empty house and when I turned my phone on, I had a hundred missed calls. As the clock turned and the day with it, I drove to the hospital to find my family destroyed.
By Suze Kay3 years ago in Fiction
Gratitude, Part 1
Wednesday Morning 1. Susan If there's a holiday I don't care about, it's Thanksgiving. But Bobby's family just goes nuts for it. Every year it's a whole procedure. Three generations of extended family (thirty people!) descend on the family farm to eat, drink, and fight over board games until the weekend is over. There's a strict schedule, a dress code, and bizarre traditions that make no sense. At least not to me.
By Suze Kay3 years ago in Fiction
Hot and Cold
When I think back on my high school days, I remember how cruel we were. To ourselves, to our parents, to each other. I tried to remind myself of that every time Mariah gave me sass or did something stupid, but it didn’t help me understand her. She often said I just didn’t get it, and she was right. They say your brain isn’t developed until your mid-twenties and it must be true, because I can’t remember why we were so cruel, or what logic went into the dumb shit we did. My memories of my young years are glazed with hormones, hot with the conviction that everything was rigged against me. It’s not like I woke up at 26 and thought cool, I’m done cooking now. What a weird ride that was. It’s more like one day I called my dad and realized we weren’t talking past each other anymore. We were finally speaking the same language.
By Suze Kay3 years ago in Fiction
Songs of Love and Loss
Led Zeppelin - Stairway to Heaven Once a month on Friday nights, your middle school hosts a dance in the school gym. You wear as much makeup and as little clothing as your mom will let you get away with, shedding layers and borrowing lipstick in the girl's bathroom once you get there. Your dad ruins your life by volunteering to chaperone every single dance.
By Suze Kay3 years ago in Beat
Discovery
"You ok?" I asked from the front seat. Andi lay in the back, a plastic bag hung limply from one wrist. The other was thrown over her head. If I were to paint this picture, I would name it Agony of the Pregnant Martyr.
By Suze Kay3 years ago in Fiction
The Artist's Way
For as long as I've been alive, I've wanted to be a writer. My mom fondly recalls that as a toddler, long before I could write, I would scrawl long, doodley lines on paper and make her 'read' them to me. All through middle and high school, I wrote constantly. I wrote for pleasure, but more importantly, I wrote for compliments. Nothing frustrated me more than editing. Nothing disappointed me more than my teachers' criticism.
By Suze Kay3 years ago in Motivation
Bad Cop
The tea has gone cold. She tips it into the sink and the mug falls from her fingers, clattering in the steel basin. “What was that?” Brian asks. She jumps. He’s right behind her.
By Suze Kay3 years ago in Fiction