Kalliopy Paleos
A Warning From Dreamland Says Little Child Do Not Give In
In the clinking dining hall of the Grand Hotel, the lilies and tablecloths glow as white as the whites of the General’s eyes. I have been pressing my nose against the plate glass doors, staring at the blue pool alive with splashing divers. The General pays the silent waiter’s bill, nodding to my mother. My mother’s dress is as red as the smears of blood lingering on the General’s mouth. She takes my hand to tell me I am special. The faces of all my people—friends and cousins, aunts and uncles—blink in farewell and become unknown to me as we turn away.
The swiveling hotel elevator rises. Its smoky mirrors are etched with palaces, and all the other guests vanish swiftly through them. I ask my towering mother how far we are going. All the way up! she chimes, pointing skyward. She smiles down at me, the darkness inside her mouth opening into a broad blue night sky tinkling with music.
From a roof far above the clouds, a rainy black city is now scintillating with street light and swarming with the warm breath of humans glistening below. In the wet light between Heaven and Earth, with a red hibiscus flower trembling behind her dainty ear, my mother dips into space for the taut rope that appears. She pulls me close and dips again, red dress flapping, for the rope that comes for me. Down, oh, down, down, we sail together through air and voices and lights and time—until she is gone from me.
I land on the bleached street of pure white dust with its one white temple. Two slender boys in immaculate robes and tingling green laurels are beckoning. Inside, my mother lies on an operating table of marble. Wound in a white sheet, she is neither dead nor asleep. The two boys press holy bread to my lips. No, I tell them, I would be mute, like you. Still, like her. The soft flesh of the bread is cool on my lips, but the dark blue night inside my mouth is a sealed, starry dome, and I push my way out of the temple, wherever it might be, however white, however silent.
Kalliopy Paleos studied contemporary American poetry at SUNY Brockport. She has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize as well as winning a Best Microfiction for 2026. Poetry and prose publications include 10 by 10 Flash Fiction, ERGON Magazine for Greek-American Arts and Letters, The Ekphrastic Review, Gooseberry Pie and Flash Boulevard. She is currently trying to improve her cooking, but it’s not going well. Her favorite place for time travel is the 18th century.
Banner Art:
Photo by Ria Truter, Unsplash, 2022
