The Dark Arts

If I look different, taller or fitter, it may be because a kind of prisoner swap has taken place. Somehow I’ve wriggled out from under the extreme judgments of a cold, tyrannical god. I’m still me but not the same. My failures suddenly seem less painful, viewable in retrospect as a series of valiant gestures against the authority of received narratives. Indigenous names for places have been restored, our pale winter bodies renourished. And so we lie down together, she and I, consumers of dreams, while angels dabble in the dark arts and the sniper kneels at the corner window.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is author of the poetry book, The Dark, available from Sacred Parasite, which will also publish his book, Akimbo, in 2025.

Fireflies

In the distance, flashes of light blinked in and out through the trees. Like lightning just before the storm. And getting closer.

"What are those?"

"They're just fireflies. They can't hurt you."

"Mommy, I'm scared."

Gina held her son tightly. "Hush baby. They can't hurt you."

They huddled together among the trees and watched the lights. She sang to him his favorite lullaby. The same lullaby her Mother had sung to her on the hot summer nights before they came to America.

"Hush baby. No one's going to hurt you."

When the bombs finally reached them, everything was over quickly.

Downstairs

“Otto, I heard something.”

“What?...What time is it?”

It was 2 AM. They were in their second-floor bedroom.

“I think I heard something downstairs...Could you make sure there isn't someone breaking in?”

“We have an alarm, Claudette.”

“You've heard of disabling them, haven't you?”

Of course, he'd heard of that.

Only moonbeams filtered into their small bedroom.

“Anyway, Frodo's down there, Claudette.”

Frodo was a Labrador retriever.

“Yeah...But you know him, and he's probably playing dead.”

She listened intently for any sounds.

“It all depends on Frodo and you, Otto...Hey, Otto.”

But Otto was playing dead.

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Very Bad Wizards

Zorbus Glitterwand walked smugly into the Conclave. He was universally regarded as the worst wizard in the world, with several guild awards on his mantle at home testifying to that fact.

So he was disappointed to be met not by awed expressions and veiled jealousy, but rather sniggers and disdain. Did these amateurs forget who they were in the presence of?

The room became deadly silent. Zorbus turned to find his old nemesis, Otto Orriblé. He'd left the wizard for dead after their last duel, 300 years prior.

This night, the Conclave died in a hail of fire and maelstrom.

Home

As the helicopter approached the storm-ravaged town, hundreds of people desperately watched and waited for food and supplies. I started to make the first drop and joyful screams filled the air.

The hurricane damaged houses, leaving them engulfed in water, while downed trees blocked the roads and cars had streamed down the streets into one another. Shelters were provided, but they couldn’t accommodate everyone. They needed help.

The pilot turned in my direction. "Okay, that’s the last one. Let’s go.”

I buckled my seatbelt and said a silent prayer, thanking Him that I had a place to go home to.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Sneeze First, Regret Later

I flew to New York for a ten-day vacation, feeling as healthy as a horse. On the plane, I sat next to a man who kept coughing. At one point, he sneezed on my arm. Within two days, I was sick with fever, nasal congestion, headaches, body aches, and vomiting. The rest of my vacation was a blur of naps and short outings under heavy medication. When I boarded the plane home ten days later, guess who was sitting in the same row, smiling at me? Swallowing my rage to avoid being kicked off the plane became my biggest accomplishment.

From Guest Contributor Zoé Mahfouz

All The Choices

Stacy surveys the cereal aisle.

When she was young she could never choose. There were too many favorites. Lucky Charms. Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Cocoa Puffs. Even Cheerios on occasion. Her mom always got frustrated, because she'd settle on one, and five minutes later want to run and grab another. Nothing looks as delicious as the cereal not picked.

As an adult, Stacy keeps it simple. Always granola. But tonight she's in the mood for something new. 20 minutes later, and she is still trying to decide.

Once she gets home, she'll finally have to tell Jake their marriage is over.

Baldwin

“Do you have it, Fred?”

“Got it.”

“And how about you, Lou?”

“Trust me. I've got it.”

“And Mel?”

Ed was head of the crew. They needed to take Mrs. Franzberg's piano up to the second floor. Ed repeated the question.

“Hey, you, Mel?”

“Piece ‘a cake, Ed.”

So now they were ready to lift the grand piano up the staircase.

“Okay… Here we go. One, two…”

“Wait a min…”

That was Mel.

“Three.”

Damn, Mel didn't have it again. There's always a weak link in piano transport. It was too bad, because it had been a very fine Baldwin.

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Funky

There was something funky about the way no one noticed as he walked the sidewalk.

The gentleman picking out fruit at the corner stand. The woman walking her dog towards him. The delivery man checking over the boxes in back of his truck. Never mind it was ten in the evening.

Not one person glanced in his direction.

He stopped at the newsstand, looked over the headlines, asked about the impending strike at the local paper. The vendor grunted noncommittally.

He fished into his pocket, as if looking for change, and drew in one smooth motion.

Everyone reacted at once.

Disintegration

"Imagine all of the possibilities!"

Debra completed the tour with a flourish and, rather than attempt the hard sell, left David and Barb to do the heavy lifting.

"I love it, honey." David cringed, having asked his wife to hide her enthusiasm. She was an eternal optimist, while he spent most of his waking hours dreaming of all the ways his life might begin crumbling around him. Opposites and all that.

While the two women huddled together like old friends, David anxiously anticipated closing on the property, and then watching as the house completely disintegrated in front of his eyes.