Fatima Kuyateh
Stories (3/0)
A Store-bought Slice of Chocolate Cake
It was Thanksgiving. I was standing at the door of my apartment with fried chicken but without keys. I sure did have priorities. I was locked out, for probably the 5th time so far. I hoped to God that Mom didn’t come home first, because she’d be so mad, talking to me about responsibility and all the things that could go wrong. She would ask things like “What if neither of us come home until late? What if someone kidnapped you?” and other unrealistic situations only a mom could think up.
By Fatima Kuyateh3 years ago in Fiction
Chaotica
I was dancing at Villa Alpha, one of the most popular nightclubs in New York City. By now, After two years, I was used to the mechanics of it all — the smell of warm, aroused bodies, the impossibly high heels, the skimpy outfits, the gymnastic tricks that would get me extra UniCurrency tips. Today I had on the expensive holographic lingerie that Janet had just given me for my twenty-first birthday. It changed images with my movements. It shifted from scenes of the city skyline to a collage of red lips to glitter and back to the skyline again. It made me a hit with the crowd. I laughed as I did an upside down midair split that earned me a standing ovation. The UC counter on the screen behind me shot up with tips deposited into my account, and there was an explosion of virtual hearts and roses.
By Fatima Kuyateh3 years ago in Filthy