Leviathan

April worked the shop counter, gritting through the arthritis and the insinuations, hoping her obsolete wedding ring would ward off anything worse. Her smile was too often seen as an invitation, but her popularity with the customers meant her paycheck was one less thing she had to fret over. Plus she got free repairs.

In winter, when she was locking up after dark, she noticed the shadows piled up in the corners of the lot despite the reflected fluorescence. Something was out there waiting for her, waiting for her to be buried under debt and trauma, waiting to consume her.

Rainbow Potato

I tell myself I don’t belong here, and I don’t. The place is home to depressives, insomniacs, winos, recidivists. Trains pass through without whistling or slowing down. Meanwhile, stacks of coffins keep arriving in the dark by truck. The first thing I do most mornings is examine my face in the mirror for signs of fresh trauma. There was one morning when I asked Google if rainbow and potato rhyme. The answer came back, “Not exactly.” A handsome young drifter, stepping off the overnight bus from Providence, smiles plausibly while wearing a necklace of human ears tucked inside his shirt.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie's latest book is Frowny Face, a mix of his prose poems and handmade collages from Redhawk Publications.

A Quick Snip

Grapes are always the go-to example: still purple and plump just seedless now, no lasting side-effects. My wife and the female doctor concur. I'm thinking laser as I agree.

I ease onto the metal bench outside the clinic as the local wears off. Once we decided to adopt, having our own kids didn't seem right. She's with her doctor right now. A session to get her over the trauma of my procedure.

I need a session also. To confirm I was insane for ever saying yes. My groin's throbbing and I'm not thinking grapes anymore. It's raisins, useless, shriveled raisins.

From Guest Contributor Garry Gunnerson

The Alien

She had not seen a human before. She had read about them, of course, and heard endless stories from her father, The General. How they had saved the remaining few, bringing them back before Earth finally died.

The humans had not adapted well to their new home. Father said the trauma of what they had done marked their souls, and the majority did not survive long. Sometimes you heard reports, sightings…

He was as clumsy as the books suggested, but his eyes shocked her most. Shapeless, lonely grey eyes. Only regret was left. It was too late for anything else.

From Guest Contributor, Amy Evans

The Dream World

Lesley entered the dream world for the first time the night after the accident. She fell asleep in her hospital room with the aid of painkillers and woke up to find she could walk again.

It is common for people to have their first experience of the dream world after an unexpected trauma. The sudden vulnerability allows them to touch aspects of reality our minds try to keep hidden.

Our greatest heroes are usually those who navigate the dangers of the dream world and become something greater than they were.

Lesley was not one of those. She died almost immediately.