My Skull Broke



My skull broke.

I was sitting on … a bench at the ballpark rocking it back and forth. It was partly on a big rock. Then Big Jam cracked the ball, I jumped up but the bench tipped forwards over and I fell backwards. I hit my head on the big rock and my skull split in half. The sun turned into sequins.

When I woke up I was 34 years old. I couldn’t remember who I was or who my family was or where I was. I learned how to talk and walk again. I learned my alphabet again.

Big Jam visited me at the hospital. He was an old man now. He autographed a ball for me and closed my fingers around it. He hugged me and cried. I cried. Then I dropped the ball.

There’s still a piece of skull in my brain. I can see color with my right eye, but only black and gray with my other eye.

My mom’s trying to get more money for me from the Star City Recreation Board. $20 000 isn’t a lot of money.

Every day I lie down in my wagon and my mom pulls me to the doctor or pharmacy. People take pictures and cry.

I want to be an angel.


Rolli writes – and draws a little – for adults (Hayden’s Ferry Review, New York Tyrant, Rattle) and children (Ladybug, Spider, Highlights). He’s the author/illustrator of the tasty poetry/art book Plum Stuff, and the forthcoming collections God’s Autobio (short stories), and Mavor’s Bones (poems/drawings). The Seaphone, his collection of over 50 flash fictions, is presently homeless. Visit his blog (, and follow his epic tweets @rolliwrites.


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