Literary Fiction

Cork Art

By Ashley Jae Carranza
Jan 17, 2019 · 275 words · 1 minute

Wine connoisseur’s collection

Photo by Oscar Söderlund via Unsplash.

From the author: My father finds himself trapped in the clutches of alcohol: cunning, baffling, powerful.


When my dad was made aware of his self-induced, non-genetic diabetes, he thought it might be time to lay off the hard stuff.

He has a stale, high-pitched stench; a putrid aroma of rotting meat that rings around his portly belly like Saturn and pours out from his mouth in bursts of clouds and stars, creating a galaxy self-sustaining and all its own. To sustain the guttural galaxy, his magic ceased to come from vodka, and began to come from something classier. Wine makes a boring person seem...

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