Hannah Cubias
Hannah Cubias is a writer who stays in the shadows. She goes to Southwest High School who is involved with TIE club (teen influence equities), banned book club, and poetry club though is nervous of performing. She enjoys reading and writing as well has video games and cooking. Her writing follows topics of childhood, horror, and angst. She is inspired by midwestern horror, horror media, and personal experiences.
Summer Carne Asada/Backyard Memories
Smoke fills the summer air, coating it with remnants of cooking food. The breeze cools our bodies, soaked with pool water. We hide behind the big bush in front of my bedroom window, known as our hideout. It was filled with blankets and remaining objects we left behind, as well as probably many bugs. My dad, standing near the hot grill, smoke blowing into his face. Beads of sweat pour down his bald head. His white shirt stained with grease and sweat. My mom brings out the biggest miss-matched bowls she could find in the cupboard, one white one blue. Both have flaking plastic pieces that none of us seem to mind. She sets out the metal wicker chairs from the shed, the place I didn’t like to be because there were too many spiders for comfort. Me and Ali were inseparable, hanging around each other from nine AM to sunset. David and my dad were pals of sorts. They drank beers and smoked cigarettes while the radio played music. I liked Dave because he always made me feel welcome even if Ali wasn’t home. The smell of the grill made my mouth water. Carne and hotdogs were the main event, occupied by grilled tortillas, corn on the cob, and fresh fruit my mom cut inside. The kitchen window opens, letting the breeze come in. The door from the kitchen to the garage propped open for easy access to toys and bringing the large containers of food. When the food had finished my dad called everyone over. We huddled around the table, grabbing our food before sitting on the ground to let the adults sit in the chairs. The ground becoming wet with pool water and dehydrated children gulping down water. Paper plates filled with good food. I spotted my father, soaked with sweat while eating, as he always was. A beer in his hand and a smile on his face, Dave matching his reaction. My mom, with a mikes hard lemonade in her hand, black raspberry, also sharing the reaction. I downed my carne quickly, Ali starting with her hotdog, and Aiden, Ali’s little brother, biting into his watermelon. We all sat in comfort, admiring the backyard thinking of the next story we were going to create or how much longer we were going to stay in the pool. The sun slowly fell causing the streetlights to come on the orange and pink horizons to come out. The pool became cooled and still, children no longer splashing around or making whirlpools. The swing set glided slightly with the wind, having no weight to keep it down. The table sat empty, no adult crowded around to drop ash onto the glass or to spill dribbles of alcohol. No dog in the grass, barking at the neighbors. Sunlight dimmed then came to a close, nothing left of life except the memories implanted in our minds.