The zen master sat on his tatami mat in the spare, spacious chamber of the temple. His eyes were half closed as he sat, deep in zazen, at one with everything. He became aware that he was at one with the universe and then realized that that awareness was a concept and that was an illusion. He took a took a deep breath, breathing in the universe. Then he exhaled. And thus he was at oneness again.
Continue reading “The Zen Master and the Genie by Rick Sherman”
The day Clancy started school, a girl pointed at her head, and hooted, ‘You’ve got no eyebrows.’ When Clancy went home, she looked in the mirror and wondered why she hadn’t noticed her missing eyebrows before. Next morning, she borrowed her mother’s eyebrow pencil and drew two thick black arches where her eyebrows should be. When she walked in the door of her classroom the teacher told her to go outside. She followed Clancy out the door, pointed to the pencilled arches and told her to go to the washroom and rub them off. Clancy scrubbed hard and wondered if she’d also rubbed off the few remaining blonde hairs that were pretending to be eyebrows.
Continue reading “Sweet Pea and His Tiny Stony Heart by Sandra Arnold”
Dan Bonner used his right hand to toss two keys to the moss-covered forest floor of Happy Valley Forest. The keys lay there glinting among the twigs and dead leaves. The throw sealed his purpose, to set his mind and body free from chance. He stood naked, one foot and one wrist handcuffed to a birch trunk. The forest stood so thick here, he could barely see the sky. That was the way he liked it, all the empty blue blocked so he could focus on the shade around him.
Continue reading “By the Beautiful Pond by Harrison Kim”
The usual doubts arrive as I cross the street, heading for the corner of Abbeville Road. This seemed like the right thing to do an hour ago, sitting in a pub on the South Bank, toasting our anniversary with a third glass of wine. But now I’m here, all I can imagine is another rejection.
Continue reading “A Door with a Thousand Locks by Ed Dearnley”
When you die, you find yourself on a sandy beach strewn with sacks, some old, some in tatters, still others weathered almost beyond recognition. All your orifices have been stitched shut. First you encounter the Bookkeeper, who opens the Ledger on your double spread and pores over the left-hand page to total all the times you have hurt others and yourself, what here they call your hurtlings.
Nothing.
Nothing to see. Nothing to feel. Nothing to smell. Nothing to hear. No sense of orientation.
Nothing.
Not just the lack of anything tangible, but the absence of even the concepts to describe the lack of senses beyond the externality of… what?
Me.
Continue reading “In the Beginning by Lee Stoddart”
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A Nocturnal Visit
I entered my office one morning and discovered a playbill pasted to the window. It was on the outside facing in. A quick check of the spy-cam I recently installed revealed that a Trans Weasel named Penrose had stuck the playbill to my window precisely at the stroke of midnight.
In Penrose’s case “Trans” doesn’t refer to gender (of which she or he is mysterious about). Penrose is a minion of the Witch HeXopatha; HeXy often endows her beloved animal toadies with abilities not normally associated with their species. In that context only, it was perfectly normal that Penrose had morphed into a Flying Weasel.
Continue reading “SaragunVision ’23 By Leila Allison”
The wind off Nauset Bay is strong and insistent, demanding my presence. It draws me from the long comfort of my home, and yet, it does not have to pull too hard. This is the debtor’s wind and I know why it is here.
Continue reading “The Returning by Rob O’Keefe”
His face was blank, no eyes, no mouth, nothing, on his back was a towering backpack, twice the size of his body and on his belt hung the masks he sells, three of them : Happy, Sad, and Angry.
“What are you looking for today?” asked the mask man.
“My in-law is coming, I need to be happy,” replied a woman with furrowed brows.
“I see,” the vendor put his backpack down, and with just a quick pull, he got exactly what he wanted: a mask with a half circle smile “You know what happens next–”
Continue reading “Smiling Mask Vendor by Rinanda Hidayat “
A demon places a sharp sabre in his hand, An angel gently whispers words of reassurance. The pain he feels is equal to having a dagger pierce his heart, the angel wants to take it out while the demon wishes to push it in further. Since he lost her nothing has been the same, he oscillates from melancholy to a furious rage that swallows him whole. This leaves his soul barren like a desert, an almost perfect ground for the deities to do battle. “Slay him and be done with it,” the demon says in a haughty tone.
Continue reading “A Quarrel Of Divinity and Impiety by Mirza Copi”
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