I kept my teeth in a Disney Princess piano pencil box. I stored it in my closet. I waited for the day I could charge the tooth fairy for all of those teeth together. It would be a major pay out for my meager savings.
I liked to play tunes with the princess piano before opening it to admire my teeth inside. Some were sharp and pointy, others were squat, like a fat little stool. If I gently shook the container, they would rattle against each other. I rattled the teeth often, thinking about how much money each would be worth.
I forgot about the pencil box full of teeth at some point until I found it again as an adult. When I opened the box, the teeth were gone. Whether they disintegrated or were claimed by the tooth fairy, I’ll never know. Maybe my mother discovered the secret stash of teeth and removed them.
I never got my payout.
Want more good reads? Check out more fiction by the MockingOwl Roost contributors and staff.
Ammanda Selethia Moore
Ammanda Selethia Moore (they/elle) is a non-binary poet and writer who also teaches English at Norco College. Their poetry has been published in Synchronized Chaos, Literary Yard, and The Journal of Radical Wonder. They live with their partner in sunny southern California.