NathanAnthonyBarstad

Category: Prose

  • Growing Up with My Father

    You could never tell us apart–at least, that’s what I always thought. Of course, a grown man and a little boy are quite distinct. In my mind, though, we were one and the same: me and my dad–much like the sun and the day. He was the sun and I was the day, ignited by…

  • Raising My Father

    It would not be until about another year before my father would pass on, and he was long past a right state of mind. I couldn’t leave him alone, though, terrible as he was, but took care of him daily, day in and day out, moment by moment, feeding him, washing him, bathing him, brushing…

  • Burying My Father

    Waking up the dead is about one of the hardest things to do–especially after you’ve just laid them to rest. The soul, it was once believed, hovered about the body for three or four days, after which it departed to go into the netherworld of the afterlife. Funny, those words are: “netherworld,” “afterlife.” Very direct…

  • Plagiarism of Fitzgerald’s Style

    They had never known love like this before, almost surreal, celestial. Overhead, stars consummated in the dark night sky, shimmering diamonds displaying stark beauty with exuberance. It was almost as if the angelic hosts of heaven sang brightly throughout the night, igniting the darkness with a kind of overwhelming sense of awe and peace. No,…

  • Plagiarism of Hemingway’s Style

    The day finished like any other. It was hot and sticky, but he felt good. The liquor cooled his throat and he was glad. It was like this day after day. He never thought it was bad because it was always good. Today was no different. Yesterday was the same as today, and he didn’t…

  • untitled 12

    Every sane individual must ask themselves the question: am I insane? To fail to account for one’s sanity is to assume it, and to assume it, only leads to making out that one may be sane, when, in fact, one is not, or vice versa. To be sure, there are degrees of sanity, one may…

  • untitled 11

    It was the sixth commandment–Thou shalt not kill–that really got him. He knew that murder was wrong in any world, but killing? What if the ends justified the means? What if he were in war? Or in some sort of combat, or defending himself–or others? The taste for blood was not something that he had;…

  • untitled 10

    There was nothing left to be said, so she simply stood there. “Well? Aren’t you going to say something?” Her mother was livid. Pregnancy wasn’t something her mother took to kindly, seeing as she had experienced nothing but heartache from her own pregnancy. Her boyfriend had left her early on, when he’d found out she…

  • untitled 9

    His mind was on fire. The words ignited a burning flame that spread over his brain like an inferno, setting his soul aflame with words blazing so hot that he could hardly handle them. All he knew was that word after word burned a pathway through his brain as his mind took up each image…

  • untitled 8

    You was the only one I’d-a ever knowed befo’, and you was the only one that ever made me feels like I was a somebody. I cain’t think of anybodies who ever made me thought I could do anything worth it. I was always caught up in a-doin’ what I was thinking they’d-a have me…