The first time Radovan mainlines MindsEyeTM, the dream-memory transports him three decades back in time to an afternoon in 2010. Artist’s charcoal clasped between thumb and forefinger, he sketches his thirty-year-old wife Analena’s face—side-swept bangs, dimples, a prominent lower lip—then the denim carrier that holds Beth. Their infant faces forward so she can engage the…
The museum warehouse was more than ample space for Polyphemus, and he could make it a true home with just a little effort. That’s what Gale, his social worker from the Department of Mythical Beings, said. She was helping him to settle in on his first night. She had found him the accommodations and even…
In Bensonville, no one plans for a career as an assailant; it just sort of happens the way one catches a cold or loses their keys. Most of our forests have burned, the ore is gone, and recycled material is worth its weight in gold. None of this compares to the double-digit unemployment rate or…
“I don’t believe you’re real,” I say to her. She laughs, then blows softly into my eyes. I have to blink. When I open them again she’s still there. “See? I’m as real as you are,” she says. We lay there in bed for hours facing each other, me under the covers, her on top….
We find each other on the road towards the failing Span. The sky is still golden here, every star, every path and confluence a part of the greater whole. We each recall, together and apart, when our own skies seemed this indomitable. And each of our backs bend in empathy beneath the weight of gold….
He drove up from the city in July of ‘67, to teach me how to turn words into money, to speak magic to bend people to my will. His red Chevrolet gleamed like Eve’s apple as he eased into the gravel lot at Pearl’s. I sat at a splintery picnic table, heat hazing down in…
Meagan always painted her the same way: nude and spread-eagled on a bed of buttery pink flowers, red feathers sprouting from bare shoulders, cheeks flushed by pollen. The spectre of a sneeze dances in the endless, liminal space between the bridge of her nose and the oval of her lips. She is stunning in her…
Marty is maybe twenty people from the teal void that fills the humming doorframe when he waves to the woman with the clipboard. She is wearing a grey suit and her hair is cut short. She smiles as she comes over.“I don’t think I can do this,” he says. He keeps his voice low, but…
I feel the city. My tarsus heavy, my chitin soft. I am too old for the mission they believe that I am on. For the destruction they believe me capable of. Sensing the helicopters in the distance, feeling the steady vibrations of their blades through the air, my lateral eyes catch movement on either side….
The rain came down, and I ran for my door. The rain served as an excuse. I ran not to escape the taunts. I ran to escape the rain. One is unforgivable weakness. One is understandable reason.As soon as the door shut, I felt secure. I felt protected. The rain outside almost seemed to cover…
