fiction / WOVEN VOICES
LOST THINGS EMMA KLINGLER
I WISH IT HAD NEVER SAILED ERIC SCHABLA, DIGITAL PHOTOGRAPH, 17” X 22”
arianne searched the room frantically for it, tearing open the drawer next to her bed, pulling the faded blue covers off and throwing them to the floor. Susan, her caregiver, called up from below. “Marianne! It’s time to leave.” Marianne gave a small squeak
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of frustration as she dropped to the floor and crawled under the bed. At four years old, she was still small enough to fit, but just barely. She had to lie completely flat, arms spread at her sides as her eyes scanned the linoleum around her. Nope, not here. “Marianne! Hurry up!” Susan’s normally kind voice was colored with impatience, and
Marianne flinched as she threw open the doors to her dresser. This took some effort, as the doors stuck on their old, half painted-over hinges. She had to put one small, scuffed shoe on the wood at the base while she pulled on the knob. The interior was almost entirely empty, save for some discarded papers and a stack of secondhand books. Her few clothing items were
IVORY TOWER / EMMA KLINGLER
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