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Smarkles

Fiction by Mary Lynn Cloghesy

Honourable Mention in the 2024 Dreamers Flash Contest

Lipgloss, "Smarkles", Mary Lynn Cloghesy

My niece was a glitter girl, perpetually covered in multi-coloured gems from glue guns and magic markers — tiny cuts that lodged in her hair and the folds of her seersucker dresses. She teased the sun as she twirled, her art held high, and itwinked back as if they shared a secret. On those sweltering afternoons, while the rest of us chased the shade, she stood in the blazing rays, undaunted, as her mother picked at herrelentlessly. I called her Smarkles: a sparkly, smarty-pants.

Nothing changed as she aged. Swoopy curls poked through the plastic tiara she favoured at high holidays, repurposed from the tickle trunk. Her makeup was a source of constant wonder. Countless photos of rhinestones, meticulously placed at the corners of her eyes, highlighted by shimmering powders, appeared in our family chats. When she was accepted into a program for cosmetic arts, we celebrated with Kir Royales, bubbly and bold. My sister was not invited. 

That fall, Smarkles packed the contents of her room into one box and bought a suitcase to safely shepherd her prized palettesacross the sea. The trip was a way to placate her parents, a quick foray to the Holy Land. She confessed her reluctance but deferred school until January. The Nova Festival with its mysterious location and deep roots in the Sukkot holiday was her salvation; the psytrance rave a chance to celebrate with astral beings like herself. She carefully packed a diamond balm just for the occasion.

She disappeared that day, but her bag was found. It contained a smattering of shekels, a crushed compact that had blended to black in the dirt, and the unopened gloss. After an excruciating year, we received news. I raised a glass to my girl, a Kir Royale, but it was too bitter to swallow. My mouth puckered and dime-store crown tilted as I retched. I couldn’t help but smile at the fizzy remains though, holding my sister as rainbows burst at our feet.


Mary Lynn Cloghesy

About the Author – Mary Lynn Cloghesy

Mary Lynn Cloghesy is an author from Calgary, Alberta, known as the Wild Rose Writer, and the founder of the Leadership Literary Lab. She has been twice nominated for the Claymore Award, holds her master’s in creative and critical writing, and has been published in various literary magazines. She is currently completing her debut novel, a paranormal thriller. Find her on Substack and IG @wild_rose_writer, or www.marylynncloghesy.com. For the Lab, see www.leadershipliterarylab.com.


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