Pia Z. Ehrhardt's fiction and non fiction.

Posts from the “Fiction” Category


Posted on October 22, 2015

Alerts flash through my phone. High winds. Flash flooding. Seek shelter. Our pup’s at the kitchen door, and I let her in. She shoots into her kennel, a cage within the safety of the house. I track the yellow and red bands on TV, like I know my mother is doing in her small apartment inside the nursing home. The weather is headed up to Hopedale, where I know she is frightened. I want the worst of it over me, the dump of water on my garden, the heavy drops against my windows, the grand performance of thunder and lightning. Outside my window, chips of hail bounce in the street. My mother used to enjoy the sound and cleanse of rain, but since her divorce she’s…

The Cool of Blue.

Posted on October 17, 2015

Menopause doesn’t happen to animals because their lives are short. Except for pilot whales, and also killer whales who can live past 90. In her thirties, a killer female stops reproducing to yield to her daughters, and to realize the grandchildren. Her pod must stay together, a simple design, this gathering village. Sex ends for the next fifty years. She has no further need for his penis as long as a hose, the weightless contact, distant, like jumbo jets refueling in mid-air. Anyway, she will miss more how they used to side-swim and spy-bob, how they broke the surface, vertical, for a look above. Fathers leave for new mounts. Sons stay because their families survive longer in the invisible net of the mother, her…

Following The Notes.

Posted on March 4, 2014

In high school I had a job as the hostess at The Trawler, a seafood restaurant at Esplanade Mall. My battery went dead and my father had to come to the mall parking lot to give me a jump. He dug for the cables in his trunk, pissed that he’d been called away from the new piece of music he was writing at home. It was Father’s Day and what he’d asked for was for a quiet house and lemon pie for dessert. “You left the headlights on?” he said. “The passenger light,” I said, pointing at the back seat. “Door wasn’t shut all the way.” “Who was in the back?” he said. “I thought you were driving to work and home, only.” My…