Rental Agreement

They were only pygmy hippos, she said, and she was planning to have them fixed. They were emotional support animals, one for each of her personalities, so there was nothing we could do about it. The pond became unspeakable, even though it was still below freezing. They floated there in the muck like ominous little storm clouds forming over smog. Trucks delivering their crates of fruit and greens continually blocked the driveway. Then one day their gauzy pink wings emerged. Angels, someone whispered, despite the aerial bombardment of neighboring gardens that now commenced. Then the local population began leaving offerings.

From Guest Contributor F. J. Bergmann

Narcissi

Resplendent in her white dress, she headed down the steps from the veranda. He tightened his parka to stave off the wind and followed.

Behind the house they built, they strode toward the pond, their barren feet leaving a trail along the mucky ground. Her smile was terse, he clenched his jaw. He searched for something new to say, she shook her head. They knit their hands, now ringless, and peered at their reflection.

Later, when the children rushed out to search for them, all they found by the water’s edge was a white lily rising beside a thistle bush.

From Guest Contributor Nicholas Katsanis

Nico is a writer of magical realism and absurdist fiction. His work has appeared in 50-word stories and Literally Stories. Look out for his debut novel Bocce at the End of the World in 2022 and follow him on Twitter @nicholaskatsan1

Unconditional Love

“That damn dog! How did she get out this time?” I asked.

He replied, “It’s my fault. I didn’t secure the back gate properly. Why does she run away like this when we take such good care of her?”

“We can’t take it personally. It is just doggy instinct to hunt. I am just sorry you need to chase her when she does this. Try looking down by the pond.”

Just as he grabbed a leash, the culprit appeared: tail wagging, dirty nose, and a dead gopher in her mouth.“There you are! Come here. Who is our best girl?”

From Guest Contributor Janice Siderius

Pests

Two men relaxed on a patio overlooking a lush garden, talking conversationally.

“I’m having a lot of trouble with these pests. They’re just everywhere! In my backyard, my pond, and even the kids’ sandbox,” the larger man said, shaking his head.

His companion sipped from a bottle. “Same with us. They destroy everything, but I still feel bad about killing them. They’re probably just trying to survive.” The smaller man paused before pointing to the ground. “Look, there’s one now.”

The larger man stomped on the creature with a look of disgust before wiping his boot.

“Pesky humans,” he grumbled.

From Guest Contributor Caitlyn Palmer

The Swimmer

Last summer it was warm with sun drips. The rain would pour and pour, filling my yard to a pond. When one morning I had a visitor inside this blue and ceramic bird feeder a little creature peeking his head out with excitement. I peeked in not knowing what to expect. It was a tree frog with little suction cups on his feet, so cool. He leaped out and climbed onto the tree so fast looking for something. I guess he was trying to find a huge raindrop to drink from. He was snatching magic, a raindrop with a rainbow.

From Guest Contributor JoyAnne O'Donnell

Irish Eyes

Marie stared in the mirror, her azure eyes gazed lovingly at slender curves. She shook her head wafting strands of dark hair about her waist. A grey tracksuit clung to her physique mounted above designer trainers.

She waltzed out of the house, across the field in view of the adoring workmen, and down to the muddy cliffs onto the sandy beach. Her feet clomped to the rocks, where she climbed the coral.

At the summit she perceived a clear pond. Therein, beyond the sea creatures' majesty and waves of seaweed, perfection shone back. Fixated, even when the tide came in.

From Guest Contributor Valkyrie Kerry Kelly

Mutant Frogs

“The grandkids found albino frogs again,” he said.

“We can see them much better on the grass when they're white,” they told him.

But they had found two more the week before, and he worried that the pesticides he had used had drifted into the pond and caused mutations. His wife wasn't listening; she was trying to figure out why there were two small dents in the flour in the canister just like last week.

The children herded the frogs to the edge of the pond. Where each splashed into the pond, a small, white circle floated on the water.

From Guest Contributor Diane de Anda

Swan

Why such sorrow for the swan on the water? Why is it her head is hung with such woe? The moonlight lines her with silver as she glides ripples atop the placid pond. And there are banks of passionflowers that glint their crimsons through the night. Had I been that swan, never would you see my nape so weak and crestfallen, so inwardly curved like tendrils at winter’s start. Because there are other swans on the pond with dispositions just the same. And if I swam my sadness to theirs, perhaps our troubles would combine like violin strings and bows.

From Guest Contributor Man O'Neal

Peter And The Whale

Everywhere Peter went, the whale was lurking. It wasn't just the ocean he must avoid, but lakes and rivers as well, any body of water large enough for the whale.

Some days, Peter would stare out his window at the pond across the street. Inevitably, the whale would be staring back at him. Peter never understood what he had done to make the whale so angry, but by now he understood that nothing but his own death would quench the leviathan's thirst for vengeance.

For the rest of Peter's life, even drinking a glass of water was fraught with dread.