Share

From this page you can share Afterlife to a social bookmarking site or email a link to the page.
Social WebE-mail

Thank you for spreading the word about Narrative Magazine.

NOTE: We only request your email address so that the person you are recommending the page to knows that you wanted them to see it, and that it is not junk mail. We do not capture any email address.

Enter multiple addresses on separate lines or separate them with commas. You can only email up to 10 recipients
(Your Name) has forwarded a page from Narrative Magazine

(Your Name) thought you would enjoy this story from Narrative Magazine.

Afterlife

A Story

by Alicia Gifford

I get paired with Samantha in biology lab to dissect a cat. Ours is a female with a litter of kittens inside her belly. We cut her open and pull out the fetus-kitties, inchoate, stiff, and wet, and our biology teacher points out all the yuck. Some of the girls act like they’re going to cry.

Big fucking deal, Samantha says close in my ear. I feel her spearmint breath enter my head like it’s a genie and I’m a lamp.

We start hanging out together, even though she’s a senior and I’m a junior. Samantha doesn’t like most of the people at our high school, says they’re stupid. Says they’re callow.

She’s a vegan and wears sparkly pink lip gloss called Imaginaire. Her hair is blond with dark roots, and she’s bird thin and lanky, like a model. The first time we go to her house we smoke pot. I ask her if her mom is okay. We’re playing some old Nirvana CDs loud, and her mom doesn’t stir once, facedown on the sofa.

Please log in to view or print the full story online or in PDF format.
If you are new to Narrative, signing up is FREE and easy.