Burning Uncertainty
HISTORICAL FICTION ENTRY:
My elder sister Tanya and I burn portraits of Nicholas, watching his solemn eyes melting. Melting, melting. Flames envelop his beard, rising into the night sky.
“To the Revolution,” she proclaims. “We’ll be happy again.”
“To happiness,” I proclaim. I hug Tanya. She smells of sweat and oil and victory.
I wonder what will come next. We’ve lost homes and positions, slaved in Siberia. She was a teacher and I, a writer. Those positions are in the past, though.
Will we be of use? Or will the Revolution brand us too bourgeois?
I wish the picture wouldn’t burn so fast.
From Guest Contributor Yash Seyedbagheri
Yash is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program in fiction. Yash’s work is forthcoming or has been published in WestWard Quarterly, Café Lit, 50 Word Stories, (mac)ro (mic), and Ariel Chart.
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