Brett is the winner of Vol 2 – 26. He has been writing fiction stories and poetry for as long as he can remember. He lives in Cincinnati, Ohio with his dog, Dallas, and majors in philosophy at Miami University. He’s been the Online Editor and editorial columnist on the student-run newspaper The Miami Student for two years and counting. When not doing that, he devotes much of his side time to writing fiction, particularly flash-fiction, and the occasional poem or haiku.
He’s been featured in publications like The Molotov Cocktail and Eunoia Review, with an upcoming feature in Infernal Ink‘s January 2015 issue. He was also quoted in a USA Today College report on how students balance college with a writing career. Follow him at his blog and on Twitter.
Once you reach a certain age, society’s attention wanders from you. And it wandered from Cosmo and the others.
It was like a wheelchair graveyard in Seaview Nursing Home – the wheelchairs just happened to be populated by blinking corpses.
For most of them, their day consisted of getting helped out of bed, plopped into their wheelchair and going a few feet beyond their room; to gaze at others, to watch the walls, to hopefully see someone young and vibrant.
Cosmo was one of the few roaming bipeds at Seaview. He didn’t get far, didn’t move fast, but he wasn’t tethered by the wheeled menace.
“I’m gonna get there some day,” Cosmo said to Renee, a nurse, pointing at a portrait of a bell tower situated within a mountainous landscape. As he did every day.
Renee knew the portrait was just a painting.
But for Cosmo, it was the fire in his old belly that kept him alive.
Kept him moving.