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Evyenia Trembois

A Eulogy for Things Not Meant to Be

She once told me it was the sweet innocence of it all that welcomed her in; but in the end, I think it was its wrongness that made her keep fighting long after she should have let go. She enjoyed playing with the complexities of life in that way. You see, even as pups, wolves should never be turned into pets–they just aren’t meant to lead a domesticated life. But when she came across that small creature on her property, barely two weeks old, three pounds, and abandoned–she was a goner. Things changed irrefutably in that instant, for her, and for everyone in her life. I guess that’s why we’re here today…

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Fire Girl

She slept on the kitchen floor.  Eyes tear-streaked, her eyeliner and mascara smudged around her eyes. Her hands were dirty, and her arms, though skinny, were well muscled, as though she’s seen some hard work. There was something interesting about her face that made me linger longer than necessary–considering the reason I had come into the kitchen in the first place, due to the alarmingly loud beeping from the smoke detector. I found the cause of the wailing: the stove was on, and a dishrag near the stove had caught fire. What the in the Hell…? Stepping over the figure, I quickly put out the fire and squinted at the microwave, shivering in only my boxers. 5:30am. On a Sunday. Wonderful…

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