Record One: Peep Show

By Allthing Publications

Shakespeare said that all the world's a stage. We think it's more like a peep show. Stuff happens, but a lot of it is too small, too quiet, or too odd to get on a playbill.

Record One contains nine stories of nine people's lives in 2013. For these nine people, a lot has happened in the short time they’ve been alive. The Berlin Wall fell. Hip-hop became a thing. Twitter happened. Protestors in Tahrir Square threw down an autocrat. There was a civil war in Libya. The iPhone 5 came out.

We saw a lot of big stories. If you want big stories, you don’t need to look here. You can turn on the news and see drone strikes in Pakistan, nuclear threats from North Korea, and a garbage island the size of Texas churning in the Pacific. Heck, I heard the guy with no legs who climbed Mount Killimanjaro has a book out. If big lives and big stories are your thing, you can go read that book; it’s probably great.

Or maybe, you’d like to hear some little stories.

Amid the big news, big things, and big people that happened in the past few years, there was a lot of other stuff going on. Some of it was bad. Parents got divorced. Relationships didn’t work out. Our beards never grew in. But there was good stuff too: we remembered our loved ones after they left. We got enough sleep. We quit smoking.

That’s what this collection is for. Little stories, little people, and little things. We didn’t necessarily make headlines, climb mountains, or even pay our rent on time, but we were here, and I think that counts for something.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Allthing Publications
• Release date: Apr 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301822133

Allthing Publications

A loosely confederated group of writers, editors, and general word-nerds. We produce the Record series while also wondering what to do if you encounter horror movie monsters in real life. Oh God, what's the noise in the basement? Here, you take a look at Peep Show while we go check it out.

Book preview

RECORD ONE: PEEP SHOW

Copyright © 2013 by Allthing Publications

Smashwords Edition

With stories by Trevor Abes, Carine Abouseif, Amir Ahmed, Beth Carroll, Jodelle Faye DeJesus, Larissa Ho, Katherine Lucynski, Olivia Matthias, Luke Sawczak

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied, and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form, with the exception of quotes used in reviews.

Your support and respect for the property of these authors is appreciated.

The nine authors in this collection retain and hold their individual respective rights to their stories. Opinions and stories presented in this publication are exclusively of the authors, and do not necessarily reflect the views of the editors, or of Allthing Publications. Additionally, Allthing Publications and the editors take no responsibility for accuracy of facts, names, or events represented in this publication.

The cover for this book uses an eye icon drawn by Ayesha Rana of the Noun Project. It is licensed under the Creative Commons CC BY 3.0.

Table of Contents

Foreword

Beard Diary by Amir Ahmed

Homicidal Stranger by Larissa Ho

Minor Benefactors by Luke Sawczak

The Tobacco Defenestration by Trevor Abes

One of Those Days by Katherine Lucynzki

Peak and Valley by Jodelle Faye DeJesus

Insomnia and the Working Girl by Olivia Matthias

Eman by Carine Abouseif

Yellow Butterflies by Elizabeth Carroll

Acknowledgments

Foreword

I am so bad at titles.

It’s my Achilles Heel, my Death Star Exhaust Port, my most open and unabashedly alarming weakness.

That’s why, even though I wanted to compile stories of people’s lives from 2012–2013, I held off for months because I didn’t know what to call the damn thing. Everything I came up with was either pretentious enough to make me gag on my own thoughts (Neoblastic—meaning new growth) or strange enough that no one would ever read it (Amir’s Cavalcade of Whimsy and Delight).

It’s the day before we publish, and I still don’t have a name. So, as long as you and I have this little space to talk, let’s just call it was it really is: a peep show. A peep show featuring nine people, living in the same place at the same time.

For these nine people, a lot has happened in the short time they’ve been alive. The Berlin Wall fell. Hip-hop became a thing. Twitter happened. Protestors in Tahrir Square threw down an autocrat. There was a civil war in Libya. The iPhone 5 came out.

We saw a lot of big stories. If you want big stories, you don’t need to look here. You can turn on the news and see drone strikes in Pakistan, nuclear threats from North Korea, and a garbage island the size of Texas churning in the Pacific. Heck, I heard the guy with no legs who climbed Mount Killimanjaro has a book out. If big lives and big stories are your thing, you can go read that book; it’s probably great.

Or maybe, you’d like to hear some little stories.

Amid the big news, big things, and big people that happened in the past few years, there was a lot of other stuff going on. Some of it was bad. Parents got divorced. Relationships didn’t work out. Our beards never grew in. But there was good stuff too: we remembered our loved ones after they left. We got enough sleep. We quit smoking.

That’s what this collection is for. Little stories, little people, and little things. We didn’t necessarily make headlines, climb mountains, or even pay our rent on time, but we were here, and I think that counts for something.

Amir Ahmed

April 2013, Mississauga

Beard Diary

Amir Ahmed

Day 1: Peach fuzz

Six-thirty at the GO station. Overhead, the train rumbles over the bridge. The rails shudder. The wheels scream with mounting velocity. We feel the rush of air on our cheeks.

Then, the train is gone. An orange sun sinks below the trees, and throws long shadows over the world.

Carine and I descend the narrow aluminum staircase leading down from the station. It’s a warm summer evening. The air smells of grass and chalk dust.

I’m wearing work clothes I hate: rough khakis, a billowy dress shirt, and a stiff trench coat I got from H&M that makes my butt look big. Carine is dressed much nicer: jeans and a soft purple hoodie. She’s still a student. She has enough freedom to wear what she wants, and enough free time to see her boyfriend home from work.

Somehow, we get to talking about beards.

I saw Sergei yesterday, I tell Carine. He has a beard.

I see, Carine says.

We dismount the steps and come to the sidewalk on Dundas. To the east, the street rolls up to the strip malls, power centres, and, eventually, the city core. West, it dips to the park, the river, and small, clustered suburbs.

We head west. Beside us, cars inch forward on the road. I hitch my bag over my other shoulder. My fingers work apart the cuffs of my dress shirt.

A good beard, I add. It’s so full and thick and—bristly.

You felt his beard? Carine asks.

I don’t have to answer that.

We clear the underpass of the bridge. A pigeon bursts out of the eaves and flutters to the ground. A red Civic swerves in front of a black Jeep. The Jeep wails its horn. I rub the spot beneath my eyebrow.

You okay? Carine asks.

Yeah, I say. Just tired.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep up with my commute: ninety minutes to get to work, and another ninety just to get home every day. All to work for free on a magazine I’ve learned is built on advertorials and ads for big business. There is no journalism.

The sidewalk dips. The cars huff and puff beside us.

We pass two black iron gates. They’re open. A dirt path leads off the sidewalk and between the gates. The path leads into Riverwood—the forest by the station.

Let’s take a detour, Carine says.

We turn onto the path, away from Dundas. A gust shakes the treetops, and the gates give a slow creak. Gravel skitters beneath our feet.

The gust dies, and the noise of traffic fades as we enter the forest. This path cuts straight through a thick swatch of brush. Branches press up against the path. Leaves block the sky.

Carine and I walk side by side. After a while, we hold hands. The air smells sweet. With my free hand, I stroke my chin.

Carine leans on me. Her head barely makes it to my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her.

Miro? she asks.

Hmm?

You’re always talking about beards. Why haven’t you ever grown one?

I smile, sadly, and shake my head.

If only she knew…

Day 7: Scruff

I can’t grow a beard.

You’re wrong, Amir.

My facial hair just isn’t thick enough.

My face is a pale slip of sharp angles. Icepick nose, narrow chin, high, pointed cheeks. It’s like the mountains in Tibet—and,