Kevin John Brockmeier (born December 6, ) is an American writer of fantasy and literary O. Henry Award ( for the short story “These Hands” and for “The Ceiling”); Nelson Algren Award; Italo Calvino Short Fiction Award. Within a week, the object in the night sky had grown perceptibly larger. It would appear at sunset, when the air was dimming to purple, as a For the short story. In Kevin Brockmeier’s short story, “The Ceiling,” Brockmeier implies that marriage is not necessary in our society. In fact, Brockmeier criticizes.

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This story felt a little slow opening, and it was hard to get into. When I got home, Joshua was watching television on the living room sofa, eating a plump yellow doughnut from a paper towel. He busied himself with his work, never marrying and doted on the children ceilingg his customers.

There were people moving around down there. Brockmrier wife tipped one of her sandals onto the grass with the ball of her foot. The world at this time was full of confusion and misgiving and unforeseen changes of heart. Excerpt Within a week, the object in the night sky had grown perceptibly larger. I read “The Ceiling” for my fiction writing class last semester.

Melissa bowed her head for a moment, as if she were trying to keep count of something. When his mother died, this faith seemed to abandon him. Sometimes, we know something is off, we just can’t really put our fingers on exactly what it is kind of like the main character in the short story. Cancel reply Enter your comment here Holy crap, what a great ending. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use. The opening is interesting because, even though the narrative progresses at a comfortable pace and things are described nicely, the narration seems to jump from topic to topic, not giving any context in some places.


It all begins on a clear blue day where our narrator is relaxing in his garden with friends at the birthday party of his son, Joshua. Mitch Nauman was leaving my house when I arrived. When Melissa asked her question, the first I had heard from her ceilung many days, I gave a sudden puff of air through my nose and keevin icicle-shaped blossoms appeared. Apartment buildings and energy pylons. This story was recommended by Alan Heathcock.

Kevin Brockmeier – Wikipedia

Where do we go from here? And he did exactly that—trotting across bgockmeier asphalt, tapping a few times on the glass, and waving when Melissa started in her chair. It occurred to me that if nothing were to change, if the ceiling were simply to hover where it was forever, we might come to forget that it was even there, charting for ourselves a new map of the night sky. The ceiling itself proved unassailable.

“The Ceiling”

The Ceiling by Kevin Brockmeier There was a sky that day, sun-rich and kevinn and blue. I had been hoping that the baker would place a few stars in the frosting as well the cake in the catalog was dotted with yellow candy sequinsbut when I opened the box I found that they were missing.

A man we had never seen before leaned into the room.

He was trying to touch the ceiling with it, and with each successive throw he drew a bit closer, until, at the height of its climb, the ball jarred to one side before it dropped. Ceiljng rest of the town seemed to follow in a matter of days, falling to the ground beneath the weight of the ceiling.

For more information on individual stories, see Things That Fall from the Sky. There’s a creepy ceiling in the sky! He leaned back into the sunlight, and her calf muscles tautened.


Then I lay down on the ground and stretched out my arm for him. The cemetery was otherwise empty, its monuments and trees the only material presence. The only question was whether the person I saw tinkering at the window was opening the latches or sealing the cracks.

He stood in the flash of hard white light, then kissed her good-bye and joined Rich and Strange in the car pool. The plane of the ceiling was stretched across the firmament, covering my town from end to end, and I could see the lights of a thousand streetlamps caught like constellations in its smooth black polish.

I was on my lunch break. When nothing happened, I squeezed beockmeier again.

“The Ceiling” by Kevin Brockmeier | creativewriting

The balloon drifted lazily away, turning to expose each delta and crease mevin its fabric, and we listened to the children resuming their play. Earlier that afternoon, a balloon and gondola had risen from the field at the end of our block, ceioing past us with an exhalation of fire. Her hand stilled in the air. My son was something of a disciple of flying things.

Leave a Reply Cancel reply Enter your comment here Bobby Nauman began to play the Where Am I? Retrieved May 17, You are commenting using your Twitter account. Brockmeier has won three O. Igoni Barrett, Belle Boggs, Brockemier. The next morning, when I found her in the kitchen, she was gathering a coffee filter into a little wet sachet.