Andrew Jason Jacono

Andrew Jason Jacono is a senior at Wesleyan University majoring in English and French Studies. He has been writing ever since he could hold a pen. A proud Manhattan native, his work has previously appeared in Cleaver Magazine, Chaleur Magazine, and Short Fiction Break, among others. If you’d like to learn more about him and keep up with what he’s doing, you can visit his website: www.andrewjacono.com.

Split

When I was a kid, I’d see severed heads floating in the dark. Every night my mother would scratch my back, kiss my forehead, say I love you, then shut off the lights. It would usually take a long time to fall asleep, and sometimes the dreams were good, but once or twice a week, the heads would squeeze through the cracks in the walls or descend from the ceiling. They’d surround me, wan and stiff and misshapen. They liked to watch my skin change color, from calm olive to tousled red to chilly white, and the way my lungs would seize up when they drummed their stumpy necks on my chest. They liked even more that I’d weep, silent and catatonic, hapless in the fog of my unconsciousness.