Scales

I was captured by the Algonquins. My parents stole me right back. Then a different tribe stole me again. One minute I was in the teepee suckling the dark teat of my new mother, the next I sat at the mahogany dining table eating my oatmeal with a silver spoon. It was the first day of summer. One of my fathers was rosining his bow. The other one was practicing his scales, especially the minor ones.

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Robert Vaughan’s plays have been produced in N.Y.C., L.A., S.F., and Milwaukee where he resides. He leads two writing roundtables for Redbird-Redoak Studio. His prose and poetry is published in over 150 literary journals such as Elimae, Metazen and BlazeVOX. He has short stories anthologized in Nouns of Assemblage from Housefire, and Stripped from P.S. Books. He is a fiction editor at JMWW magazine, and Thunderclap! Press. He co-hosts Flash Fiction Fridays for WUWM’s Lake Effect. His blog is here.