Today Is The Day!

Ah, February 29th, we meet again. Welcome back.

I have been waiting for Leap Day with more excitement and anticipation than the day warrants because it’s a great excuse to reshare my story, “Leap Year Mother,” which was originally published in Vast Chasm in January of 2022.

I was very lucky (and incredibly honored) to have the editors of Vast Chasm go on to nominate this story for Best of the Net, and to have it catch the eye of Jon DiSavino who runs the Short Story Today podcast. Not only did I get to talk to Jon about “Leap Year Mother” and a bunch more of my stories and my writing background, but the episode also included his fantastic reading of this story. You have to go way back into the archives to find my episode, but you can listen to it here, or find it wherever you listen to podcasts (it’s Episode 13 of the first season).

“Leap Year Mother” was my first foray into fiction that included speculative elements and it was a blast to write. It’s a little weird and a little sad. You can get a taste of it below if you’re interested.

Enjoy your extra day of the year and as always, thanks for reading and for all your support!

Leap Year Mother

Isobel sets a vase of tulips on the windowsill. She folds back the edge of the blanket on the bed and smooths the wrinkles from the sheets. She checks the clock. 11:55 p.m. In five hours, Hannah will be sixteen. Isobel imagines her daughter’s hands, the length of her fingers. She pictures Hannah’s legs, long and smooth, freshly shaven. Her breasts, two swollen nubs at twelve, now likely round and fuller, marking the start of her shift into womanhood. Isobel straightens the books on Hannah’s shelf. She uses the cuff of her sleeve to wipe the thin line of dust accumulated along the edges of each spine. The heat comes on with a whoosh and Isobel starts. She takes a breath and rubs her hands over her thighs to settle herself. There is nothing left to clean or straighten, not that it would matter anyway. By dawn the whole room will be different, morphing suddenly into a space Isobel is expected to recognize as if three years have not passed since she last saw it. 

She checks the clock again. 12:01. It is February 29. Isobel lowers herself to the floor and sits with her legs crossed. She rubs her thumbs into her palms. One hand, then the other. She pulls her hair into a low bun and releases it again. Up and down. Her scalp tightening and relaxing. Tightening and relaxing. 

She watches the bed and waits for her daughter to return…

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You can find more of my writing & contact information at clairemtaylor.com. If you’d like to further support my work, please consider purchasing one of my books, or a copy of Little Thoughts Press. I also have a ko-fi page.