Call Of The Deep

It was his first and last voyage to sea. An escape ship. His duty; to scrub the decks. He watched as jellyfish gathered around the keel, unnoticed by the experienced sailors. A simple extra hand. Days passed, or months.

Brine burned his lips, rum quelled his pains.

The jellyfish still gathered.

In the moonlight glow their beauty morphed into that of a woman, her tail flowing along the starboard side.

She called to him, and the dragon uncoiled. Drunk with thirst and madness he dove into her arms, and the dragon swallowed him whole. Only the birds’ song remembered him.

From Guest Contributor Valkyrie Kerry

Ophelia Takes A Bath

Ophelia under the water; kneecap mountains poking out dwarf the dipping hills of her breasts. The ragged, brown seaweed strands of her hair move gently as her hot kettle sighs ring around the steam-shrouded bathroom.

She finds brash or delicate things expose her madness—the rough lyrics of a Pogues’ song or the fragrance of a flower bomb. Silver chains on her thighs, bright relics of dejection, shackle her to the past but aren't enough to save her. So she piles his words as pebbles on her heart and in this way she doesn't float away—at least not today.

From Guest Contributor Adele Evershed

Her Weary Madness

There she goes again, completely absurd. Nothing she says is true or worthwhile. But she's livid, wreaking havoc on all of us, destroying our mood and self-worth over invented situations; she, the perpetual victim.

The little guy is so young; does he realize this isn't normal? Should I calm her? Argue? Agree? It doesn’t matter I should know, after 17 years. I escape momentarily…is there a normal reality beyond this, a calmer, serene existence? Or am I fabricating a comforting utopia?

Tomorrow, she won't apologize, or even remember this madness. But it’s real and I must stay to protect them.

From Guest Contributor Henry Eutaw