Festivity By Veronica McDonald

Mama said not to bite the ornament, but I bit it anyway. I liked the way it flashed under the warm white lights like a sparkling, red jewel. I didn’t want to eat it, or even taste it. I only wanted the beauty of it inside me, where no one could get at it. It crunched under my teeth, shattering into a million glittering jewels, falling down my chin with splatters of drool and droplets of mouth-blood. I tried to spit it out, but it was too late; it was in between my teeth, carved into my gums, glitter spread all along my tongue. Shards of red and silver covered the fibers of my sweater, weaving themselves into the wool. Shining glass stuck into the skin of my cheeks and chin. I tried to get Mama’s attention as she fussed with the tinsel, but my speech was lost in a cloud of red sparkles bursting out of my mouth and floating around me. I got lost in the halo of my words, touchable, and full of Christmas, until Pop walked in and handed me a gold ornament without looking my way and told me to “Keep it out yer mouth,” as he walked over to fuss at the tinsel with Mama. I watched the gold glisten under those white lights and didn’t want to taste it, but felt the shards explode around me and in me, my body pulsing and shredding with beauty.

© 2016 Veronica McDonald

Veronica McDonald lives in San Diego with her husband, two toddlers, and two black cats. She received her MA in Literature from American University. Her longer fiction can be found in Beorh Weekly and Scrutiny. Check her out on her website: http://veronicamcd.wix.com/veronicamcdonald

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