Who's To Blame?

There's a responsibility implicit in every act. By choosing to engage in life, we accept that our choices will have consequences, even when we consciously deny them. We are of the world and we are defined by the actions we take as surely as by those we don't.

This isn't about blame or guilt. Such concepts are constructs of society, attributes of culture. Animals probably don't understand guilt. Plants certainly don't, nor rocks. But they live by the same rules of causation that all of us do.

So yes, Mother, I broke the dish, but is it really my fault?

Cirque Du Silly

One summer, I went to Circus Camp. As an acrobat, I was overcome by terror, lost my grip on the trapeze, and plunged into the net before my partner could grab my ankles. Animals hated me. The dancing horse tried to bite me, and the performing poodles peed on my shoes. I looked hilarious in clown makeup, but my timing was terrible, and I was trampled while exiting the tiny car. I tried juggling and hit myself in the face with the balls. Fortunately, the camp staff were brilliant photographers; the shots they posted on Instagram made my family proud.

From Guest Contributor R.K. West

Good And Evil

Bradley wondered what was wrong with him. Other kids may have complained about working their chores, but they enjoyed eating bacon and hamburgers, and talked excitedly about weekend hunting trips.

Bradley didn't know anyone for whom slaughtering a cow prompted an existential crisis. There was no doubt he was the weird one in town, and his parents, his brothers and sisters, his classmates, even his teachers, all knew this to be true.

He simply couldn't shake the feeling that just because everyone else thought eating animals was normal, there was something inherently evil about it.

From the cow's perspective anyway.

Ruthless

Dr. Sheila Fabiana, PHD., surveyed the water with her binoculars, looking for signs of predation. Sharks patrolled these waters. Her current task was to record their feeding behavior and keep track of various data related to hunter and prey.

She did not have to wait long.

People think of sharks as ruthless killers, incapable of pity or empathy. Dr. Fabiana believed this was an unfair characterization. People are generally able to feel pity for the unfortunate and empathize with others, including both humans and animals.

Sharks are literally incapable of pity or empathy. Ruthless by definition, but are they really?

The Savior

Mary held baby Jesus in her arms, coddling him from danger as Joseph watched. He was tiny and quiet, sleeping peacefully. Joseph touched Mary’s shoulder gently and she smiled. The animals surrounded them and watched as the family sat contentedly in joyful wonderment staring at the small gift. Mary, exhausted, stayed awake afraid to leave her newborn son out of her sight, but Joseph took him from her arms, and she laid back and fell into a deep sleep.

Joseph gazed at his son in awe, the miracle God granted them.

The Savior, Christ, who would sacrifice himself for others.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Platero And I: The Hunt

You will be pleased to know, Platero, that the Earl has decided to no longer conduct or permit hunting parties on his estate.

You and all the other animals of the village will no longer be startled by loud blasts of old guns, nor will the smell of gunpowder hang over the fields for days like an autumn mist.

I will certainly miss that delightful and wonderfully spiced pie the Earl brings me every year.

Ramiro, the old poacher, chuckled as he confided in me: "That recent obligation to wear fluorescent vests while hunting was too much for the Earl."

From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

Hervé Suys (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and he hasn’t stopped since. Generally he writes them hatless and barefooted.

Cage

The town came to the zoo based on the promise of a special exhibit of animals captured with great difficulty. The audience was truly impressed.

“My god, they are ten times our size.”

“They are bellowing so loud they can be heard ten towns away. The shrieking hurts my ears and might leave me deaf.”

Despite their fear people stuck around, mesmerized by the crazed beasts. They trusted the extra thick bars in the cage.

Their trust was ill-advised. The humans broke out of the cage and stomped the crowd into the ground. Three thousand Xanians died painfully.

From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley

Thoughts And Prayers

Small furry animals have crawled out of their holes for a look. Such sights! Smashed-in skulls and severed feet and angels covered in blood. Like a nasty drunk, God has been exceptionally belligerent of late. A cadaverous woman in blue scrubs who says her name is April asks, “On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the lowest, how severe is your pain?” Strangers on social media offer thoughts and prayers. Even then, the leaves on trees instantly wither as a burning airship passes overhead. My wife refuses a ride. We cling together just like the words in a poem.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author of Failed Haiku, a poetry collection that is the co-winner of the 2021 Grey Book Press Chapbook Contest. It is scheduled for publication in summer 2022.

Fireball

CONTEST SUBMISSION

I asked my telepathic cat Fireball, the cat formerly known as Kitzhaber, “Do cats have a theology?”

“Some, but not all cats, believe that we were created by a divine lion-like creature, which then made the other animals to entertain us. We expect that on the day we expire we'll be transported to a cat heaven where there are nothing but cats, rodents, and worshiping humans. The rodents will give us sport but always get caught and eaten. The humans will pet and play with us until we tire of them, then they will disappear until we need them again."

From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley

The author, formerly known as Dough or Douglouse used to make numbers as an actuary, now among other things, strings words together.

Lucy’s Life

CONTEST SUBMISSION:

Lucy peers out the back door. “Hey, squirrel, stop eating my parents' tomato garden.”

The squirrel faces Lucy. “Since when do you talk, little dog.”

“I bark because that’s what dogs are expected to do with humans. I could ask why you only talk to animals, but I’m sure the answer is the same.” Lucy puts her paws on the door and growls a warning.

“Fine, I’m leaving. I’ll go scavenge in the woods.”

“There’s my Lucy,” says her mom as she enters, and Lucy jumps on her legs.

If only her mom knew what’s going on in Lucy’s life.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher