For love, sister A ripped the hair out of sister B's scalp, tight curls floating on air like poodle hair. Sister B lifted the footstool and heaved it into her sister's boobs, knocking her to the brand new carpet. Holding her boobs, sister A cried for revenge, "A boob for a boob—scaring sister B into stillness and maybe regret. Then she sprung up and ran to the kitchen to get the butcher knife thus causing sister B to run to the utility drawer to pull out the hammer. The two gladiators circled each other in front of the TV until they heard a Cadillac car engine shut down, car doors slamming. While sister B looked at the venetian blinds, sister A lunged catching the palm of her hand. Blood dripped on the carpet as the deadbolt turned. Broken glass glittered. Sister B pressed down on her wound while sister A hid the weapon under the couch cushion. "She stabbed me," sister B shouted. "She hurt my bust," sister A countered. "I could get cancer." The mother shouted, "You're getting blood all over my new carpet." The sisters broke down into such loud crying the canaries flew onto their beds and buried their heads. The upstairs neighbor pounded on the ceiling with a broom handle and the next door neighbor turned the volume on the TV to its highest setting. The father blessed the cheeks of his girls with the flat of his hand. Then the crying stopped and the screaming began.
Luca Penne lives in New Hampshire and builds timber-frame barns for a living. His work has appeared in many journals, including Furnace Review, 2 River View, Otoliths, and others. He has an MFA from Southwestern Missouri State, where he won the Emerson-Tate Award for his writing.