OCCASUS
  • Home
  • Archives
    • Thesis Day 2020 >
      • Erin Anderson
      • Chantelle Ing
      • Olivia Smit
      • Shauna Valchuk
    • Boomerang >
      • The Art >
        • Alisha Ansems "Tangled Memories"
        • Lindsay Athoe "Study I" and "Study II"
        • Melissa Bareham "Suspension"
        • Ronnie Clarke "It Is Hard to Say"
        • Nick Cote "City Parks"
        • Liam Creed "Untitled"
        • Gwen Hovey "Jelly"
        • Marissa Martin "Childhood Wonder"
        • Alexa McKinnon "The Feminine Uncanny"
        • Amy Ngo "Untitled"
        • Jill Smith "Shelf Self String Thing" and "things a, b and c"
        • Rebecca Sun "Untitled 1" and "Untitled 2"
        • Gabriele Tyson (Andrew Fraser) "Strong Strides"
        • Val Vallejo "Digital Scaring"
        • Kewen Yan "Time Traveller"
      • The Art/The Poems >
        • Marissa Martin/Mary McDonald
        • Amy Ngo/Jill O'Craven
        • Rebecca Sun/Mary McDonald
        • Gabriele Tyson (Andrew Fraser)/Hashini Puwakgolle Mudiyanselage
        • Val Vallejo/Elizabeth Sak
        • Kewen Yan/Megan Gerret
      • The Poems >
        • Megan Gerrett "Traveller"
        • Mary McDonald "Beyond"
        • Mary McDonald "Blink Back"
        • Hashini Puwakgolle Mudiyanselage "Silent Battles"
        • Jill O'Craven "She is an Ocean"
        • Elizabeth Sak "Stalemate"
    • Issue 1
    • Issue 2
    • Issue 3 >
      • Judges: Issue 3
      • Contributors: Issue 3
    • Issue 4 >
      • Judges: Issue 4
      • Contributors: Issue 4
      • Poetry: Krista Bell
      • Poetry: Josh Garrett
      • Poetry: Erica McKeen
      • Poetry: Katharine O'Reilly
      • Poetry: Victoria Wiebe
      • Poetry: Eric Zadrozny
      • Creative Nonfiction: Ryan Bates
      • Creative Nonfiction: Devin Golets
      • Creative Nonfiction: Jonas Trottier
      • Experimental Writing, Film Sound: Rachel Ganzewinkel
      • Creative Nonfiction: Victoria Wiebe
      • Fiction: Raquel Farrington
      • Fiction: Yulia Lobacheva
      • Fiction: Alexander Martin
      • Fiction: Tiffany Shepherd
      • Fiction: Jonas Trottier
      • On the Night Before Your Father's Funeral, By Katharine O'Reilly
      • Market Blooms By Robyn Obermeyer
      • All That Glitters By Julia Cutt
      • Mosaic By Evan Pebesma
      • love song 2 By Joy Zhiqian Xian
      • Student Writer in Residence: Steve Slowka
    • Issue 5 >
      • Judges: Issue 5
      • Contributors: Issue 5
      • Poetry: Rayna Abernethy
      • Poetry: Chelsea Brimstin
      • Poetry: Natalie Franke
      • Poetry: Kevin Heslop
      • Poetry: Katarina Huellemann
      • Poetry: Cara Leung
      • Poetry: Tamara Spencer
      • Poetry: Travis Welowsky
      • Poetry: Victoria Wiebe
      • Creative Nonfiction: Lyndsay Fearnall
      • Creative Nonfiction: Gary Jackson
      • Fiction: Patricia Arhinson
      • Fiction: Lyndsay Fearnall
      • Fiction: Levi Hord
      • Fiction: Richard Joseph
      • Fiction: Erica McKeen
      • Experimental Writing: Laura McKinstry
      • Experimental Writing: Brittany Renaud
      • Short Film: Ethan Radomski
      • ALFRED R. POYNT AWARD IN POETRY >
        • Poynt Award: Emma Croll-Baehre
        • Poynt Award: Robyn Obermeyer
        • Poynt Award: David Witmer
    • Issue 6 >
      • Judges: Issue 6
      • Contributors: Issue 6
      • Ficton: Sam Boer
      • Ficton: Sydney Brooman
      • Ficton: Erica McKeen
      • Ficton: Esther Van Galen
      • Creative Nonficton: Erica McKeen
      • Creative Nonficton: Brittany Tilstra
      • Creative Nonficton: Nathan Wright-Edwards
      • Poetry: Chelsea Brimstin
      • Poetry: Rachael Hofford
      • Poetry: Elana Katz
      • Poetry: Erica McKeen
      • Poetry: R. A. Robinson
      • Poetry: Elizabeth Sak
      • Experimental Writing: Sydney Brooman
      • Experimental Writing: Erica McKeen
      • Experimental Writing: Brittany Renaud
      • Experimental Writing: Brittany Renaud
      • Short Film: Dejvi Dashi
      • Short Film: Matthew Carr
    • Issue 7 >
      • Contributors: Issue 7
      • Judges: Issue 7
      • Poetry: Michelle Baleka
      • Poetry: Jenny Berkel
      • Poetry: Kevin Heslop
      • Poetry: Katarina Huellemann
      • Poetry: Nathan Little
      • Poetry: Erica McKeen
      • Poetry: Kaela Morin
      • Poetry: Elizabeth Sak
      • Poetry: Kate Zahnow
      • Experimental Writing and Film: Erica McKeen
      • Experimental Writing and Film: Shauna Ruby Valchuk
      • Fiction: James Gagnon
      • Fiction: Megan Levine
      • Fiction: Erica McKeen
      • Fiction: Cassia Pelton
      • Fiction: Julia Rooth
      • Creative NonFiction: Noa Rapaport
      • Screenplays: Sydney Brooman
      • Screenplays: Nathan Wright-Edwards
    • Issue 8 >
      • Judges: Issue 8
      • Contributors: Issue 8
      • Poetry 8: Danielle Bryl-Dam
      • Poetry 8: Leah Kuiack
      • Poetry 8: Jameson Lawson
      • Poetry 8: Maxwell Lucas
      • Poetry 8: Kaela Morin
      • Poetry 8: Joanna Shepherd
      • Fiction 8: Mason Frankel
      • Fiction 8: Rylee Loucks
      • Fiction 8: Celia Kate Shapcott
      • Fiction 8: Amy Wang
      • Fiction 8: Blake Zigrossi
      • Screenplays 8: Naomi Barghel
      • Screenplays 8: Amanda Inglese
      • Screenplays 8: Jeff Simpson
      • Creative Nonfiction 8: Tiffany Austin
      • Creative Nonfiction 8: Jenny Berkel
      • Creative Nonfiction 8: Carolina Jung
      • Creative Nonfiction 8: Leah Kuiack
      • Creative Nonfiction 8: Li-elle Rapaport
      • Creative Nonfiction 8: Amy Wang
      • Experimental 8: Lauren Lee
      • Experimental 8: Kirah Ougniwi
      • Experimental 8: Carlie Thompson-Bockus
      • Plays 8: Camille Inston
    • Issue 9 >
      • Contributors: Issue 9
      • Fiction 9: Chris Chang
      • Fiction 9: Tegan Wilder
      • Fiction 9: Hyacinth Zia
      • Creastive Nonfiction 9: Aidan Gugula
      • Poetry 9: Rachel Fawcett
      • Poetry 9: Matthew Simic
      • Experimental Writing 9: Shauna Ruby Valchuk
      • Screenplays 9: Naomi Barghiel
      • Screenplays 9: Alicia Johnson
      • Screenplays 9: Keaton Olsen
      • Screenplays 9: Rachel Yan
    • Issue 10 >
      • Contributors: Issue 10
      • Experimental Writing 10: Akshi Chadha
      • Experimental Writing 10: Adelphi Eden
      • Experimental Writing 10: Nicole Feutl
      • Experimental Writing 10: Isabella Kennedy
      • Experimental Writing 10: Christopher Paul
      • Poetry 10: Meaghan Furlano
      • Poetry 10: Li-elle Rapaport
      • Fiction 10: Meaghan Furlano
      • Fiction 10: Carly Pews
      • Creative Noniction 10: Nicole Feutl
      • Creative Noniction 10: Courtney WZ
      • Screenplay 10: Margaret Huntley
  • Issue 11.1
    • Contributors: Issue 11.1
    • Fiction 11.1: Tega Aror
    • Fiction 11.1: Chloe Bachert
    • Fiction 11.1: Kelly Ge
    • Fiction 11.1: Asia Porcu
    • Fiction 11.1: Taryn Rollins
    • Fiction 11.1: Pauline Shen
    • Poetry 11.1: Jennifer Adamou
    • Poetry 11.1: Katherine Barbour
    • Poetry 11.1: Akshi Chadha
    • Poetry 11.1: Emma Graham
    • Poetry 11.1: Li-elle Rapaport
  • Issue 11.2
    • Contributors: Issue 11.2
    • Fiction 11.2: Victoria Domazet
    • Fiction 11.2: Mackenzie Emberley
    • Fiction 11.2: Rachel Oseida
    • Fiction 11.2: Cindy Xie
    • Creative Nonfiction 11.2: Alex Rozenberg
    • Creative Nonfiction 11.2: Alanna Zorgdrager
    • Poetry 11.2: Cassy Player
    • Poetry 11.2: Madeleine Schaafsma
    • Experimental 11.2: Mackenzie Emberley
  • Submissions
  • About
    • Mission
    • Masthead
    • Writing Studies at Western
    • Contact
  • Writing Studies
September 19, 2016 | Occasus | Issue 6 | Fiction

Three Ways to Meet Penelope Rose

She knew that she had to go to sleep, or else Santa wouldn’t come. She watched the streetlight flicker its caramel yellow, trying to ignore both her boisterous excitement and her full bladder. She crossed her legs tightly. The bathroom was all the way downstairs, and she never went after dark. If she got up, her parents would think that she was trying to spy on Santa. They would be upset with her. What would they do? What if they took away her presents?

Penelope couldn’t leave the room. There was no way.

Instead, she flung off her covers and tip-toed to the closet. The old piggy bank. She was beginning to sweat—she really had to go. She grasped the ceramic pig and turned it upside-down. She unplugged it, dumped its few coins onto the carpet, and thrust it under herself. She squatted down and let it go.

Some of it splashed into the piggy bank, but she could feel most of it, wet and sticky, streaming down onto her legs and ankles. That rotten, piercing smell. She tried to hold her bladder and re-adjust her position, but the warm urine was streaming incessantly now.

She suddenly heard steps in the hallway. Her mom creaked the door open, whispering:

“Penelope? Are you asleep yet?”
 
“Of course I’m not asleep.”

His voice was quick and whiskered, spat harmlessly out of upturned lips. She couldn’t see his lips, of course; the room was coal black. The only light outside was the flashing blue dot of a distant, passing plane—the only sound, the gentle white noise of the nearby river (like the static from an old-fashioned TV) and the occasional pitter-patter splashes of geese, whipping up water with wide wings.

Her parents slept down the hall. Had they heard him clawing up the rotting apple tree, climbing onto the roof? He almost fell down the chimney, he had laughed to Penelope earlier, but finally stumbled to her bedroom window. They had crawled into bed together, talked about school, until talk dried up and he whispered: “Can I take off your shirt?” He had cupped her breasts—so soft, treating them like sacred hatchlings—as she unbuckled his belt.

“Just hands, just hands,” she thought to herself as he stroked her bare hips. She had invited him there with first-snowfall giddiness, it’s true. But the condom he had placed on the dresser had looked like an ugly package of candy. He moved his hand to her legs, stroking smoothly down like a dry river. The blue dot of the plane passed out of sight. All dark.

She had joked that he must have fallen asleep; he had been quiet for so long. They both exuded shaky, nervous laughs. But now: quiet. She felt his stroking. She felt like a lawn being groomed for rocks.

“You need to start feeling better about your body, Penelope”.

A lawn being groomed for rocks, so that the lawnmower runs smoothly.

“You know that I—“

The geese took off again. Ploosh. Ploosh.

When he finally continued, his voice was quiet as a fridge door squeak:

“Are you afraid?”

“You’re damn right I’m afraid! I’m terrified!”

Rachael was over again.

Penelope’s bed wasn’t made—blue covers splayed like an acrylic ocean—but she had packed six brown boxes, and the furniture around her room was so naked it was nearly shivering. She was going to find the last few things (headphones, hair straightener, paint supplies) after a pedicure from Rachael.
               
Penelope sat on the edge of her bed, staring meditatively at her poster of Bob Dylan pinned to the adjacent wall. She liked the way he could make so much sense without making any sense at all: “I looked up my chimney hole, I even looked deep down inside my toilet bowl, they got away…”. Tomorrow was the first day of university, and her friend was much more vocal about it than herself.
               
“I’m seriously freaking out, Penelope. What if everybody there sucks? If residence doesn’t work out, I swear to God, I’m sleeping on your floor for the year.”
               
They both laughed hysterically. Rachael continued painting Penelope’s toenails while swinging her head this way and that. She cried:
               
“But what if you hate residence too?”
               
The chimney swifts chirr-ed gently outside. They must miss the apple tree, Penelope thought. As her mind wandered, Rachael continued her monologue:
               
“Who am I kidding…everybody loves you, Penelope!”
               
They could both hear Penelope’s mother crying downstairs. It was painfully faint. Her only daughter’s imminent departure was not easy to accept.
               
Rachael suddenly dotted nail polish onto Penelope’s leg. Penelope squealed as she felt the cold tickle, and her friend began laughing maniacally. Penelope started to chuckle. She looked down to see a scribbly yellow heart painted onto her leg.
               
“But the question is,” Rachael continued, screwing the cap onto the nail polish, “are you afraid?”
               
The tangerine sunset was visible through the window. A faint glow. It looked like the dying sparks in a fireplace.
               
Penelope sighed:
               
“I’m just worried about which room they’re going to put me in.”
SAM BOER is a student of English, Writing, and Music at Western University by day, and a songwriter and performer by night. His poetry has been published in undergraduate journals such as Symposium and Semi-Colon, and his essay on the musical minimalism movement was published in the national undergraduate journal Nota Bene. He co-wrote and acted in a short play in the Toronto Fringe festival in the summer of 2015 titled "This is Not Porn," and he has performed original musical material all across Ontario, from the main stage of the Hillside Festival to the Silver Dollar Room in Toronto, as both a solo musician and as a member of various bands. His second solo EP, "Crossed Legs," was released in January: https://samboer.bandcamp.com/.  

Western University
Department of English and Writing Studies
© Copyright 2022 | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Picture