Books and Backpacks

By: A. D Sparks    The first time I ate human flesh was for my 27th birthday. I became aware of the idea after hearing a story about how some guys in Germany met up online and one said:   “ I have the funniest craving! Some human meat would really just hit the spot right about now.” And then some other guy popped online and said:   “Well gosh-darn-it, what great timing! I sure would like to be eaten.”    So they met up, and the first guy killed the other, and stored him in his freezer, and slowly ate him. Obviously, he was eventually caught, otherwise we would never have heard the story.   But I was inspired by this man’s, admittedly stupid, actions.        I met some random guy on some dating app or other. I picked him because he said he didn’t drink or do drugs (which I figured would sour the meat) and he wasn’t too big; that was it. I wasn’t the strongest, at that point in life, and I thought that if I could find someone a bit ...

The whole day was a massive, and very successful, publicity stunt. Actually, the majority of “The Inventor”, as he was colloquially known, was in order to create and maintain the shroud that permanently encapsulated him. Nothing was known about him except his accomplishments. Nothing was published about his company other than those minute details in the posts on his website that were deigned to be shared with the public. Most of the time, those little posts were just pushing whatever Zosia’s newest project was. He never made a press release. He never held any public meetings. Everything known about him had been published in blog posts on his company website. People only knew as much as he allowed. As one might imagine, the curiosity around him had quickly made his moniker infamous. Rumours promptly spread over who he was and why he remained anonymous. So, the day that infamous tech genius and trillionaire announced the opening of his new amu...

Violet My father would die soon. Tonight was Victor Van Camp Senior’s 90th birthday party. To me, that is the official notice that my father was nearing the end of His life. It was also the notice that it was time for me to move on. Forgive Victor Van Camp, forget Viola Van Camp, and more than anything, let go of childhood. Eyes closed and taking a deep breath, I sink down into the crimson crushed velvet couch behind me. I spent the vast majority of my life in this house, but I no longer recognize it.   Huntley’s hand rests gently on his daughter’s shoulder, as he stands beside her chair. His head twists towards Ezra and I. Our stares meet and my brother’s blood-shot eyes give me a knowing look. I take another steadying breath, relaxing further into the furniture.   My husband settles in next to me.   “Are you ready for this?” He leans in to whisper to me.   As I’ll ever be, I guess. I think, but merely raise my eyebrows to him as response enough.   “Ah, childre...