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by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss

It was Sunday evening again, and on every Sunday evening, I wanted to die.

“Cindy! Where are you?” I heard my mother’s voice calling me.

I was in the living room watching an episode of my favorite TV show that I had recorded on the Friday before. I knew my mother wanted to say that it was already eleven, and that I had school the following day, but that was something I didn’t want to hear. On Sunday evenings, I just wanted to bury myself somewhere and not come out until Friday, or drink some kind of magical medicine like Juliet, so that I could sleep deeply for days and wouldn’t have to do anything.

“So here you are hiding!”

Continue reading → Cinders

New York 1999

by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss

The Pigeon and the Little Parrot
The pigeon lived in the city. Every day, when the sun came up, he would be thinking that maybe that would be the day when he would die of hunger. And every winter evening, when the sun went down, he would be afraid that on that night he would freeze to death. He had nothing but his freedom to enjoy in his life.

One day, out of curiosity, the pigeon flew into a room through a window somebody had left open. The family who lived in that apartment was nice to him and wanted him to stay. They put him in the big golden cage where their little parrot lived.

The little parrot was happy to have a new friend. She asked the pigeon to stay with her. The pigeon said he would stay only for a year. He knew he was strong enough to open the door of the cage, so he could leave any time he wanted. The little parrot didn’t understand why would the pigeon ever want to leave that nice cage, but she was glad to hear that her friend would stay for a whole year.

But, after a couple of months had passed, the pigeon wanted to leave. ‘I’m going back home,’ said the pigeon to the little parrot. ‘Why?’ asked the little parrot. ‘Don’t you like this golden cage? Don’t you like all the colorful, tasty food we have?’ ‘I like it,’ said the pigeon. ‘But I miss my home.’ ‘I don’t understand you,’ said the little parrot. ‘I know you don’t,’ the pigeon replied. ‘But you can come with me if you want to. Maybe then you would understand.’

Continue reading → New York 1999