My Brother Danny
When the rapture finally happened, I was stuck inside a crypt-themed escape room. The basement grew dark as electric candles went out one by one. The game attendant was gone. My brother Danny was gone. The plastic bones were still there. I touched the walls, feeling for notches and levers. For patterns. Danny always wanted to disappear. I couldn’t blame him for that. Now, I had to go back to father alone. After I swallowed my gum, I lay down next to the mechanical coffin and dreamt of Danny. He whispered, follow the exit sign. But I only wanted to know: didn’t I do enough? Danny, didn’t I?
Appetites
I’m sitting at the breakfast table eating oatmeal porridge when my mother tells me she was raised by a wolf. I snort, but she shakes her head, says she’s serious. She gets up and grabs a shoebox from the cupboard. It’s filled with dozens of photographs. There she is as a plump baby, crawling between four large paws. There she is as a toddler, laughing as a wolf tongue licks her wispy hair. There she is at her kindergarten graduation, toothy grin next to solemn, golden eyes. My mother sighs, says those were the days. She had never felt so safe. But didn’t the wolf try to eat you, I ask. Every day, my mother says. She takes a bite of her porridge. My, what big teeth you have, I tell her. She laughs, and I start to laugh too, and soon, we’re both howling.
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Elena Zhang is a Chinese American writer and mother living in Chicago. Her work can be found in HAD, The Citron Review, and Flash Frog, among other publications. She is a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee, and was selected for Best Microfiction 2024 and 2025.