I Believe In Dragons

It might seem controversial, but I have a strong belief that dragons actually exist. You might think me insane or desperately naive, a sufferer of what is colloquially known as wishful thinking. Or perhaps you believe I'm of a more metaphorical bent, and my optimistic nature and love of the imagination means I hold a place in my heart for the fantastical. I surely couldn't be speaking literally.

If that's the case, I promise you I am most serious when I say I believe in dragons. In fact, one is staring at me this very moment, ready to breathe fire.

Capricorn

The stubbornness with which the constellations cling to the sky is the stuff of religion. Whatever your beliefs, that kind of tenacity can't fail to inspire the fickle and the insane.

Molly had never thought of herself as a sheep, but how could she explain why she followed him into that abyss? Was it his persistence? His loyalty? The sensitivity he allowed only her to see. Or just a refusal to read the signs even as they became more apparent?

The lawyers who decided a restraining order would be protection enough better hope hell is less real than the Zodiac.

Wandering Star

I killed the crew of the Wandering Star, humanity’s last hope.

A desperate mission to find a new home. The ship crashed into this lonesome planet of obsidian.

Maybe I’ve lost my mind. But I heard a voice calling me here. A soft whisper in the dark. They called me insane, said I’d gone AWOL. Tried to lock me up.

I wandered the surface, guided by the whisper, until I stood in its shadow, a great five-pointed upside-down black star floating high above.

I wept when I realized why I’d been led here. The leviathan declaring the end of humanity.

From Guest Contributor Rick Ansell Pearson

Rick lives and works in central Mexico. His fiction can be found forthcoming in Year Five: Dark Moments and Patreons, published by Black Hare Press.

The Roundabout

We are on a holiday in Greece. Jim is at the wheel and I am navigating our return to Athens from Marathon. The roads are frantic and the drivers insane. We did not arrange for a GPS in the rental car, which was a mistake.

Suddenly we find ourselves at a roundabout. Jim asks tersely, “Which exit do I take?”

“Slow down so I can read the signs,” I bark back. “Is that upside-down Greek “y” an “L” in English?”

The meaning of the expression “It’s all Greek to me” makes sense now.

Six circumnavigations later, we’re on our way.

From Guest Contributor Janice Siderius

The Whispers

The whispering grows louder after exiting the shaman's hut. If her words are true, the voices following me are not of my own making, but rather the lost souls of the long dead, clamoring for attention.

I'd thought I was the only one, but she told me they speak to everyone, though very few will admit to hearing them. Those who do are branded as heretics or clinically insane. In a way, I preferred believing that I was unique, but perhaps knowing the truth will lead to acceptance from my peers.

I do, however, regret killing all those people now.