Fiction | July 17, 2011
The Silver Bullet
The full text of this story is not currently available online.
By the summer of 1984, bankruptcy was so close we could taste it. It tasted like beans, which we ate with growing frequency, and it tasted like fear. It tasted like the cigarettes my mother lit one off the next. My father, meanwhile, fell into deep silences. He stood with his arms crossed, contemplating our many orange Herefords, once valuable enough to warrant his near-constant attention, now worth less than three dimes a pound. The cows looked back, chewing their cuds, oblivious to soaring feed prices, unacquainted with terms like “mortgaged” and “remortgaged.” Neighbors came by to look at the equipment, offering such trifling amounts that my father’s face reddened. He turned them down, but they called again, offering less.
If you are a student, faculty member, or staff member at an institution whose library subscribes to Project Muse, you can read this piece and the full archives of the Missouri Review for free. Check this list to see if your library is a Project Muse subscriber.
Want to read more?
Subscribe TodaySEE THE ISSUE
SUGGESTED CONTENT
Fiction
Jan 08 2024
Eighteen People Every Hour
Eighteen People Every Hour Dennis McFadden The first time he saw her, asleep on the sofa when he came home from work, he honestly thought of an angel. Of… read more
Fiction
Jan 08 2024
Motherlove
Motherlove Elisa Faison “I’m really sorry. No one told me you were here.” That was the first thing Lily ever said to us, that she hadn’t seen us. But now… read more
Fiction
Jan 08 2024
Song Night
Song Night Robert Long Foreman I thought about calling this “What We Do in the Basement,” because there are several things we do in our basement. It’s a good basement.… read more