Category: issue 14

Check your skin at the door.

The goat was there again, legs tucked, waiting outside the station.

Chief Adewale always said his wheelchair was faster than most people’s legs, and he had seventy-two years of evidence to back it up. Every morning, while Ibadan’s streets clattered awake with danfo horns, roasted plantain smoke, and market women shouting “Oya, bring your money here!”, Adewale positioned himself at the top of Oke Bola slope and called out to the neighborhood children.

Jeffreylynn was working the counter at Universally Sweet Cafe when the other dimension opened right on top of hers.

When people ask me where I’ve been for the last year, I always enjoy seeing the look on their faces when I tell them. “Titan? That’s so far away. There’s nothing out there.” “Wait, did you say they didn’t even pay you? I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.” “Oh, the helium-3 mines. I heard about that. Weren’t you guys kept in slavery?”

This is the story of you, a man—simple, uncomplicated, perhaps a little stubborn, getting on in years, but still vital. And some of the stupid fucking choices you've made.

Oh my gods, calm down. Please—please—don’t hit me with that hurdy gurdy, you’ll damage it. I know how this looks but I’m not here to murder your family or burn your village—not my style. Just stay and listen a moment. I’ve got a tale for you, kid.

Elara moved through the settlement with a careful quiet that was almost second nature, the worn soles of her boots tracing familiar paths across the rippling surface of the Great Wanderer’s back. Evening light pooled in low hollows, settling into a dusk somewhere between bruised purple and the rich ochre of the land-creature’s living skin.

Before you open your eyes, you know you're not home. The weighted blanket gave it away, wrapped around your body like a tortilla, turning you into a breakfast fucking burrito on that cold, cold early morning. The weather — that was the next sign. You know, it's never really cold in Bahia, so where the hell are you now, shivering, curled up like a kitten on the hardest mattress you ever laid on (so different from the one in your bedroom)? If you pretend you're still unconscious, maybe you'll convince your brain you are just dreaming, and it'll take you back to the place where you belong.

It was just past midnight, and the only life present in the sorcerer’s sanctum was the cat who called it home. The real master of the domain, one might believe.