Last Seen

“Ghost in the Garden (2)” by Blake Noelle Stolarik

I put the first Missing flier up early Saturday morning. Pinned to a telephone pole and overlapped between a Garage Sale sign and a Lost Cat poster, was my sister’s smiling face. A school photo with a fake mountain background. The garage sale promised fine oak furniture. The lost cat—Mr. Blueberry—had a striped tail and needed medication. My sister was declared to be “5’1, 112 lbs.” All these years and I had never known her weight. Not that it’s a thing brothers know. Just felt odd to see it for the first time. 112. Seemed like a big number, in bold ink, sitting on its own, but she was a small girl.

By lunch I had made my way to the Safeway over on Grant and Steiner. There was a corkboard by the CoinStar. This time I squeezed her between a For Sale flier for a pickup truck and an advertisement for piano lessons with the little tabs at the bottom to rip off if interested. The truck had 145,000 miles on it. The piano lessons were $80 an hour, but the lady had gone to Julliard. My sister’s birthday was “09/13/06.” Written like that made it look more like an account number than a celebration with balloons, streamers, and ice cream cake, always mint chocolate chip.

The sun was setting by the time I hung the last flier on the Community Board at the entrance of McSweeney Park. There wasn’t a single inch of open space, so I tacked the flier over an announcement for T-Ball sign ups. Ages 5-9, no experience necessary. But now that space read: “Last Seen: Wednesday at 2:50 leaving St. Vincent’s High School.” As I pushed the pins in, I could feel the board swollen with paper. The original cork a distant memory.

As I turned to leave I noticed another flier for Mr. Blueberry peeking out from between two ripped yellow soccer posters. This one looked much older. How long had Mr. Blueberry been gone? Or maybe he was found and his owners were so happy they forgot to take down the signs. Or maybe they never found him and instead spent their lives stapling new fliers over old fliers over older fliers.

And when was Mr. Blueberry last seen? The flier didn’t say. And who was it that saw him? At least in his case, it wasn’t me.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Eric Scot Tryon is a writer from San Francisco. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Glimmer Train, Willow Springs, Pithead Chapel, Los Angeles Review, Pidgeonholes, Monkeybicycle, Sonora Review, Cease, Cows, Berkeley Fiction Review, and elsewhere. Eric is also the Founding Editor of Flash Frog. Find more information at www.ericscottryon.com or on Twitter @EricScotTryon.

about the artist

Blake Noelle Stolarik is a college student; photographer; published children's lit illustrator; poet; and writer for Fungi Foundation. Her ardor for details and diversity drives her photographic work. Find more of her work at https://blakenoelleart.wixsite.com/website or @blakenoelleart_ on Instagram.