Fall 1990 • Vol. XII No. 4 FictionOctober 1, 1990 |

The Midnight Feast

Lindsay did not dare to fall asleep. She lay open-eyed in the faint familiar darkness of her room; she kept herself awake by thinking about her finances. If she baby-sat for the Curtises three more times, she would have enough money to buy a black skirt—like Miranda's. She ran the figures round and round in her head, but it was not only a matter of arithmetic; she had no way of knowing whether the Curtises would need her services. Last week when Mr. Curtis drove her home, he had said, "See you soon," but Lyndsay had not paused to ask how soon. Instead she had climbed quickly out of the car to avoid his customary pat. Through the open window next to her bed she heard her father calling to the dog as he strolled around the garden. From early spring until late autumn he took Dinah for a walk last thing at night. Her mother joked that it was just an excuse to talk to his flowers and vegetables, and yesterday Lyndsay had found him staring fiercely at a row of runner beans, as if ex

Already have an account? Login

Join KR for even more to read.

Register for a free account to read five free pieces a month from our current issue and digital archive.
Register for Free and Read This Piece



Or become a subscriber today and get complete, immediate access to our digital archives at every subscription level.

Read More

Ianvar

By James Vladimir Gill

Lindsay did not dare to fall asleep. She lay open-eyed in the faint familiar darkness of her room; she kept herself awake by thinking about her finances. If she baby-sat […]

Subscribe

Your free registration with Kenyon review incudes access to exclusive content, early access to program registration, and more.

Donate

With your support, we’ll continue 
to cultivate talent and publish extraordinary literature from diverse voices around the world.