Honeymoon At Home

The cats prefer to keep their secrets or their distance. Never both. But Darling even looks different, like a Saturday morning Sylvester. The first time it happened, I asked my husband if he wanted some blueberry cake. He didn’t hear me, but Darling said, “Muah, I do.” He winked. He answered me from then on, but never in front of my husband. I began to come up with questions just to hear him talk. “What’s your favorite pie?” “Do you enjoy having a tail?” “Do you love me?” My husband planned a second honeymoon. Darling and I watched him pack.

From Guest Contributor Luanne CastleLuanne’s recent fiction can be found in Bending Genres, The Dribble Drabble Review, Does It Have Pockets, South 85 Journal, and The Ekphrastic Review. She has written several award-winning poetry books.

The Look Of Things

We were invited to a silent room filled with melting glaciers. I just stood there, part of the system, but vulnerable in a way peculiar to men who are naked except for their socks and shoes. I’m constantly creating problems that never even existed. I have to walk really, really carefully or there’ll be more cats than people around. After we’re dead, it’s another story: Cosimo de Medici once complained to Michelangelo, “That sculpture doesn’t look like me.” “Listen,” Michelangelo said, “you’ll be dead in 20 years, this will be around for 2,000 years. So, that’s what you look like!”

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author most recently of Spooky Action at a Distance from Analog Submission Press.

Personal History

Adulthood in Texas means being old enough to get the electric chair if you kill someone. In 17th century England offenders sent to the pillory were pelted by the crowd with dung, dead cats and dogs, rotten vegetables, and, in extreme cases, stones and even saucepans. Some, though, flung flowers in Defoe’s face. It’s the difference between weather and climate. The least you can do is pretend to care. In Jewish tradition a righteous man is buried with 144 prayer books atop his coffin. When my Uncle Lou was buried, they put the books in cardboard boxes labeled Kitchen Utensils.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author most recently of What It Is and How to Use It from Grey Book Press. He co-edits the journals Unbroken and UnLost.

The Stray Cats Of Glen Eden

Glen Eden would otherwise be quite charming if not for the herd of cats.

They are unlike any cats you have ever seen. The size of golden retrievers, with husky fur, they have thoroughly overrun the village.

Their favorite spot is the widow's cabin. She not only feeds them fish and chicken in individual bowls, but she always keeps her fire burning, making her roof an especially balmy spot for naps.

The cats don't normally eat humans, but knowing that there have been attacks from time to time is enough to make any visit to Glen Eden a harrowing affair.