When Dad Moves in with Auntie Carly It’s Time for Votive Offerings by Chris Cottom

We lay the table under the apple tree, whoop as Mum glides towards us like a bride. We lift her veil, kiss away her tears, insist she’s a gazillion times more gorgeous. As the garden darkens, we fetch tealights and candles, sing cowgirl songs acapella, sing high and pure until the moon emerges, mysterious and sad. At long past bedtime, Mum digs a hole in the border, snips her veil confetti-tiny, entombs the scraps near the bones of our bunnies. She talks of Norsemen burying longboats, the little bronze animals of Ancient Greeks, how the gods favour stuff that’s bent or broken. We choose our one-legged Barbie, a piebald My Little Pony, and a puddleduck with a line of ducklings. But we weep as we wield the scissors, agree every duckling needs its mother, that the gods have plenty of horses, and a beautiful amputee can still find love.

Chris Cottom lives near Macclesfield, UK. His work features in 100 Word Story, Bending Genres, Fictive Dream, FlashFlood, Flash Frontier, Gooseberry Pie, Leon Literary Review. MoonPark Review, NFFD NZ, Oyster River Pages, Roi Fainéan, The Lascaux Review, and elsewhere. Find him at chriscottom.wixsite.com/chriscottom.