dreamszilla

Drama major Luna Narkissos is so obsessed with her self-image she loses track of who she really is; by Sam Levy. In the glass, the outline of my reflection bounced slightly each time the pharmacy door slammed. I appeared vaguely delineated, the sharp edges separating the atoms of my body from those outside it bleeding together, forming a shadowy silhouette. Still, here were the curves of the hips, singing out on either side like a cello; there, the slim shoulders holding up the image in a frame. I strained to make out the features of my face, but it was opaque and amorphous, a deep pool. "Narkissos!" The pharmacist's bellow roused me from my trance, like a silk veil slipping down. Her gaze lingered on my face a moment too long. "And I'll need to see your ID." I glanced down at my driver's license as I passed it across the counter. My eyes appeared as two glassy green spheres pierced by the reflected light of the flash. My brown hair cascaded o

Zumman and Sappa's fortunes change when no more Mammon grows in Jesteria, threatening famine; by Edward Lee. He called the World Builder on a comm link and relayed the problem. Zumman's home had been displaced. Zumman stood with his wife, Sappa, and their daughter, Sasa, who was shading her eyes, looking at the horizon. Sasa could see the World Builder coming down a hill on his utility vehicle still some distance away. Sasa saw the World Builder step off his vehicle and walk in the direction of the family. He wore fatigues with devices strapped around his waist, thigh, and arm. On his head was a large helmet with vision goggles that had lines running over them, his pupils the center point. "I've already found your home. Get in," the World Builder said. The family climbed aboard and sat at the rear of the vehicle, where there was a balloon-like bumper that was firm against their backs. The World Builder pressed on the accelerator, and they were off to find w

via American Short Fiction https://ift.tt/3lrfU7l

via American Short Fiction https://ift.tt/3DPFMRa

It’s beginning to look like a more typical holiday season this year. Like everyone else, we did not get to spend Thanksgiving with our children and grandchildren last year. Missing an almost entire year of holidays with our family has made me rethink how I want to cherish every moment I have with them in the future. Let me explain. If you have ever read the story of Mary and Martha in the Bible, you know that Mary was the person greeting her guest, washing the feet of Jesus, and peacefully enjoying her company. (Luke 10:38-42) Her sister, Martha, is the one who is exhausted from getting the house ready, preparing the food, and making sure everyone is comfortable. I am Martha in this story, but I would rather be Mary. The last Thanksgiving we had before the Pandemic, I was so busy that I forgot to enjoy the time with my grandchildren. I planned to prepare the perfect dinner by cooking everyone’s favorite food and keeping us with the conversations. My granddaughter, Jayne, walked

In post-Depression era small-town USA, Billy Hart risks his life unionising steel forge workers; by Lee Conrad. Killian, Ohio - August 1961 The Murray brothers, Phil and Gary, bolted out the screen door of their ranch-style suburban home on the outskirts of Killian, Ohio, looking for adventure. The early afternoon was moist and oppressive after days of heavy rain and storms. They dressed alike: white cotton pullovers with blue stripes, shorts, and Keds sneakers. "Make sure you are home by supper," their mom yelled. "Philip, do you have your watch?" "Yes, mom," he said as he held his arm up, the Mickey Mouse watch tight around his wrist as they raced out the backyard towards the meadow. Phil, fifteen and the older of the two by one year, taunted his younger sibling. "Hurry up. I'll beat you to the fort and won't let you in." Gary, skinnier and less athletic, struggled to keep up. "No fair, Phil," he whined. Phi