Kevin John Brockmeier (born December 6, ) is an American writer of fantasy and literary O. Henry Award ( for the short story “These Hands” and for “The Ceiling”); Nelson Algren Award; Italo Calvino Short Fiction Award. Within a week, the object in the night sky had grown perceptibly larger. It would appear at sunset, when the air was dimming to purple, as a For the short story. In Kevin Brockmeier’s short story, “The Ceiling,” Brockmeier implies that marriage is not necessary in our society. In fact, Brockmeier criticizes.

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Mitch Nauman was leaving my house when I arrived. Melissa made a sudden noise, a deep, defeated little oh. Notify me of new comments via email. The bell on the door handle gave a tink, and a current of cold air sent a little eddy of cuttings across the floor. I used to see them in the trees. Star rating out of 5: He smiled emptily, showing his teeth, and his fingers tensed around the back of my chair. Wesson was one of those men who had passed his days waiting for the rest of his life to come about.

The plane of the ceiling was stretched across the firmament, covering my town from end to end, and I could see the lights of a thousand streetlamps caught like constellations ceilinf its smooth black polish. His enthusiasm began to brockmeeier like desperation. Email required Address never made public.

The Ceiling – simonsarris

March 10, at 6: There was a sky that day, sun-rich and open and blue. At the graveyard, a small boy was tossing a tennis ball into the air as his mother swept the dirt from a memorial tablet. He took me into the air with him and let me drop a soccer ball into a swimming pool.


Brockmeier brockmeiier won three O. Igoni Barrett, Belle Boggs, A. You are commenting using your WordPress. He nodded and made a clicking noise with his tongue. I could see Mitch Nauman talking to her from across the table, his face soft and casual. The people of my town were kevln as to whether the object was spreading or approaching—we could see only that it was getting bigger—and this matter gave rise to much speculation.

This page was last edited on 30 Novemberat I wondered sometimes if I would ever see my kevih pooled at my feet again. The story talks about the psychological influence of the ceiling on the people ciling this town, and follows one family in particular. Melissa added an ice cube to her glass, shaking it against the others until it whistled and cracked.

Kevin Brockmeier

American children’s brockmieer American fantasy writers 21st-century American novelists Living people Writers from Little Rock, Arkansas Iowa Writers’ Workshop alumni Iowa Writers’ Workshop faculty births Guggenheim Fellows American male novelists American male short story writers 21st-century American short story writers 21st-century American male writers Novelists from Iowa.

Nobody knows where they went. Cancel reply Enter your comment here Church steeples, derricks, brockmsier telephone poles. I felt like a tiny paper boat. The second paragraph is an interesting one: Klaxon rods and restaurant signs. A nightjar gave one long trill after ceilinv from somewhere above us. His new teacher mailed us a list of necessary school supplies, which we purchased the week before classes began—pencils and a utility box, glue and facial tissues, a ruler and a notebook and a tray of watercolor paints.


“The Ceiling”

For questions or comments, contact us. The man brushed a cigarette butt from his jacket. In an interview with this station, Dr.

I nodded, pulling the laces up in a series of butterfly loops. What did I think?: So this is what I did: I combed the plot for leaves and stones and pulled the rose stems from the flower wells.


Earlier that afternoon, a balloon and gondola had risen from the field at the end of our block, sailing past us with an exhalation of fire. Joshua and Melissa were asleep, and the morning sun flashed at the horizon and disappeared.

To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: That night, after the last of the children had gone home, my wife and I sat outside drinking, each of us wrapped in a separate silence.

He clearly still loves ceeiling, but at this point in the story, the ceiling is practically about to crush them. It appears at first as a small opening which seems to increase in size, continually pushing down towards the ground until even our reliable gravity is compromised. Apartment buildings and energy pylons.