She waddled to imitate the penguins behind the glass, committing with a dead-eyed, bird-like stare. Her friends cracked up and tried to do it too. Monica’s version was much funnier, Lenin thought, lurking behind a wall of fish. Then, as a crowd passed through the floor between exhibits, she spotted him across the empty space, and their eyes met.

Lenin turned away immediately, not letting the moment of contact last more than a second. He tried his best to act cool, walking to another wall of fish, pretending to read the information plaque. He shot a quick glance back in her direction. He didn’t see her. His eyes swiveled back to the fish and his mind was a tsunami of possibility, both good and bad. But he didn’t have time to let the waves break. Reality was already crashing toward him.

Lenin saw Monica in the reflection of the glass, strolling at him from the spot he had watched her from. All his joints locked while his heart drummed a rhythm of shock and infinite terror.

Monica popped up next to him. When he peaked at her, inconspicuously as he could, she was staring at the fish, not him. He thought about walking away, but his feet were like two ton anchors holding firmly in place. He could not escape this situation, he thought. No matter what.

As he furiously brainstormed something interesting to say to the girl he liked, the girl he just got caught staring at, Lenin was surprised to hear Monica speak first.

“Did you see me do the penguin walk?” Her question was probing, but her voice was trepidatious and guarded.

Lenin was left reeling.

He couldn’t even look at her, his head hung in embarrassment. He struggled to process her question, let alone respond to it. When he snuck a peripheral check, the two managed to catch eyes once more, and this time he was close enough to see Monica react with a look-away just as fast as his. He balled up his courage and shot.

“Um, yeah. I was just looking over at the penguins and saw you… over there. Doing the walk.”

A long silence rippled between them as the crowd of families and students filled the space with idle chatter. The blue glow of the place was mesmerizing in so many ways. But it made it hard to think. Lenin cut through it.

“It was good. The walk I mean, it was funny. You gotta teach me how to do it.” Eyes low, Lenin glanced up toward a little guy of unknown species, and in the moment, he could have sworn it smiled. Hopeful, he turned his head slightly to Monica.

“It’s pretty easy, you kinda just have to watch them walk.”

A brief quiet.

She looked away from him. Lenin’s heart sank. Then she raised it back up.

“Do you wanna check them out?” She asked, a bit reluctant. “They’re actually pretty funny.” She finally turned toward him. Her cheeks were flush.

“Yeah, but you have to do the walk there.” Lenin smiled as there eyes met once more. She smiled back, then went dead-eyed and straight-faced.

Monica proceeded in a waddle ahead of Lenin, then turned back to catch him beaming at her. She reciprocated with an equally powerful beam.

“Now you!”

Lenin stopped smiling with all his might, and with goofy bird-eyes not quite as dead as hers, he imitated her penguin waddle.

Feeling blue like waves Ebb and flow — Always moving With nowhere to go

Julian walked off the train, still drunk, and turned his head twice to check both ends of the platform. The sliding doors closed behind him. The train passed him by.

A man in a trench coat sat on a bench at the far end of the platform. He watched Julian as he stood still at the platform’s edge, nearly falling asleep on his feet. Julian jolted awake as gravity began to take course, and he stumbled forward into the parking lot.

“Impressive.” The man murmured. He followed Julian into the lot. It was mostly empty of cars or people except the two of them and one other.

“Hey! Hey, hey, heyyy! Do you know where…” Julian burped. “Do you know where I can get a drink? I’m — still trying to drink.”

A woman turned around in surprise. She had been on her phone and crying, although Julian barely noticed. Her pale skin was glistening in the night as her shocked expression turned quickly to concern.

“You’re in a strange part of our town. You shouldn’t be here.” Julian looked confused but undeterred. The man in the trench, a long man with dark gray hair, stood far from Julian and the woman, but made his presence known.

“Excuse me!” He shouted across the lot, trying to bridge the distance. “Are you looking for a party?”

Julian’s eyes lit up. He shot his arms into the air and jumped.

“Yes! Exactly!” He turned to the woman and gestured at the man, “this guy knows what’s up!”

The man in the trench smiled bashfully and shrugged.

“There’s a house party two blocks from here, I was just heading over there when I overheard you.”

Julian gawked at the man like he were a miracle unto himself.

“This is great! This is, like, wow.” His eyes darted toward the woman. “Hey, do you want to come?”

The woman, stunned by the situation, looked down at her phone, and then up at the two men. Indecision rang through her.

“I’m not sure. You look really sleepy, maybe you should go get some re—“ Julian cut her off.

“Please? Please! Don’t slow me down! I’m begging you! I’m — I’m going too fast! I’m going too damn fast!”

Julian continued to talk nonsense, but as he did, the woman got a good look at him for the first time. He wasn’t just handsome, he was pretty; shiny in all the ways she liked. The long dark curls especially. And as he exclaimed and persuaded with the fervor of a playful puppy, she relented to his kind brown eyes and soulful ease.

“Okay. Fine. Let’s go.”

The odd trio made there way to the party, introducing themselves along the way. Herman was visiting an old college friend for an annual tradition, while Marta was more coy. She explained that some plans had fallen through but not what they were or why.

They arrived at the house, a banner with the word “REPTILIA” on it hanging from the second floor windows. Herman was greeted with a hearty welcome. The owner of the house embraced him like an old friend would, while Herman had to shrug down to do the same. Julian and Marta were welcomed as well.

“Bathroom?” Marta questioned.

“Beer?” Julian tailed her question with his own. The house owner chuckled.

“Bathroom, upstairs to the left. Beer, right this way! You know, we’ve got plenty of beer, but we’ve also got some really great—“

Marta climbed the stairs and turned the corner. She began to touch up her makeup in the wide mirror. After a while, she caught her own eyes, and glared. Her lips crimped together as a lump built in her throat. She blinked her reddened eyes as tears welled up in them. She fought them back.

“Hey, I thought I told you…” she pointed and gave herself a stern look. Then she laughed. She went back to her makeup and then began fixing her hair when she heard a loud crash and the pitter patter of fast, heavy footsteps. Now up the stairs. Her concern ballooned.

The bathroom door flew open, and a bloody Julian stood in the doorway.

“Oh my god, what?” Shock consumed her.

Julian slammed the door behind him. He stared at her, catching his breathe.

“They’re lizards. All of them… They — they tried to, like, eat me.” Julian was gasping for air as Marta stood unamused. Then she smelled something burning.

“What’s that smell? What is that?”

Julian took one more deep breath and spoke.

“Lizards hate fire, right? So I lit that shit up. My older brother taught me how to make a Moly when I was young so, it’s like, a skill.”

Marta’s eyes widened in horror. She felt it now, the exasperating heat, and began to panic. She ran to the window and saw large lizard bodies slithering out of the backyard pool, into other people’s backyards and down storm drains. Then a knock at the door.

“Hello in there!” It was Herman, but his voice was more slippery now. “C’mon now, the night’s not even over! And a little fire, Julian? You’re not trying hard enough! Lizards love fire!”

“Shit.” Julian was stumped as Marta rolled her eyes in frustration. She moved to the tub, turned the faucet, and let the water run. She faced Julian.

“I told you, you shouldn’t be here, you pretty, drunk idiot.” She stepped into the tub as it began to fill. She squatted down, then dunked the rest of her body into the water. Then she emerged, changed. Julian stumbled backward into the toilet, tripping and sinking his ass into the unseated bowl. Marta, somewhat taller now, loomed over him, scaley and gorgeous.

“I just wanted to fuck tonight, ugh.” She opened the door and strolled by Herman and the house owner, both lizards as well. Desperate screams scored her balletic movement as she snaked through the flames with melodic rhythm. She walked out the door as the house burned behind her. As she considered poor Julian’s fate, a cruel thought sang in her head and all she could do was cover her mouth as she chuckled shamefully. As sirens began to sound off in the distance, and the fire bloomed to light the night sky, Marta hummed a tune, then cut herself off.

“I’m going too damn fast!” She mocked, letting out another hefty chuckle.

“So, what is it?” Jahna cringed looking at the soup that had been served.

Her partner for the night, Kal, sat across from her, and a grin bloomed that showed the deep dimples in his cheeks.

“It’s uh,” he tilted his head as he spoke, floppy braids tilting with him, “it’s Cthulhu tenties…” Kal stopped short at the sight of Jahna staring down the bowl. He could see she was horrified, disgusted, and intrigued all at once. And as the silence continued for another moment, Kal saw that she couldn’t take her eyes off it.

“So, because Cthulhu is undying, we roast it in the eternal flames of the 19th official Hell for millennia. The stew base is a blend: two parts the endless oblivion, one part the very waters of the infinite in which Cthulhu dwells, and a squeeze of squid ink… Jahna, are you okay?”

Jahna was fiercely focused on the bowl, drooling. Her eyes darted up at him and quickly back to the stew.

“Yeah, I’m good. Keep going, keep going.”

Kal couldn’t help but point out the spittle on her chin.

“You’re dro—“

Jahna cut him off and wiped her drool shamelessly.

“Yeah, yeah. Go on.”

Kal chuckled and continued.

“The hellroasted Cthulhu tenties and the stew base go in a witch’s cauldron and over a low dragon flame. We add fresh garden tomatoes and onions, and stir until a mortal born the moment you started stirring dies from old age. We top with a peppering of stardust and unicorn horn shavings, add lime to taste.” Kal giggled.

“Are unicorn horn shavings edible?” Jahna questioned, her eyes still locked on the bowl, her spoon held like a weapon.

“Oh yes,” Kal quipped back, “they taste like rainbows and anger!” Kal laughed, but Jahna didn’t notice. She was seconds away. Seconds.

“Can we start?” Jahna’s pupils were wide, her senses heightened.

“Yes—“ before he could finished, she already had a spoonful down her mouth, the quickest she had ever moved. “But, just make sure to finish the bowl, otherwise the infinite permutations of all perspectives of all parts of every universe you will envision will kill you. You need the whole serving to regulate and compartmentalize it. Okay? Enjoy!”

Jahna swallowed the first delicious brothy gulp, looked down, and suddenly the bowl appeared endless, like a sea of stars. She grinned from ear to ear, like a child.

The two slurped down the Cthulhu stew, shared visions of all things that have been and have yet to be, and when they were finished, Jahna wondered if there was anymore.

Word had come from on high about the wreckage in Section Nine. They were finally ready to clear it, the last of what the war left.

After so long, and in such a remote place, nobody wanted to touch it. That’s when the pay got bumped up and suddenly everyone was raring to go. But we were the first ones to book tickets.

Niecy knew it was the payout we needed, so she couldn’t say no. I don’t think she wanted to, either. It was a lot of money for only a year’s worth of work in this tundra, scrapping away at these frozen, old ships. We had both done worse for less. Still, that didn’t make it easier.

“Ashe!” I heard Mr. Engall roar on his way from the trailer.

“Yes sir?” I cut the power to my saw, turned toward him, and lifted my goggles. Facing the wind now, I felt the cold stab at my cheeks.

“Niecy on the line for you. You can take it in the trailer. Just be quick.” Engall played the part of a hard man, but all the workers knew that he was big-hearted and soft to the touch.

I packed my saw carefully and responded, “Thanks sir, will do.” I started the trudge towards the trailer, then heard Engall call out once again.

“Hey, tell her to come in a half hour early, Johnson wanted her to see about the aero-plate in the systems’ bay.” Engall threw his request out like Niecy might not desperately want that now-extra half hour, but they had already signed up for the whole gamut, and he knew it had to get done.

“I’ll let her know, Boss.”

I opened the door to the trailer, shook the snow from my feet before walking in, and pressed the button for the blinking receiver on the wall.

“Hey, Ni, it’s me. What’s up?” I began to de-Velcro, then unzip my reddish-orange snow jumper, feeling warm under its insulated layers.

“Hey, so Arno’s feeling a little feverish and I gave him medicine and food, but it didn’t really help much. So I called the doctor in town and they said they would see him, but their soonest availability is during my next shift, so you’ll have to take him in.” I felt the heavy weight of silence and expectation in those fleeting moments between her last words and my response. The toughness of Section Nine’s literal never-ending days. Nothing ever fully stopped here, not while the sun was out. I held in a sigh.

“Alright, just leave me the address before you go. Is he okay now?”

“Yeah, he fell asleep a while ago, trying to sleep it off probably.”

“Alright, that’s good, I guess. Oh, Engall wants you to come in a half hour early to see about… the aero-plate, I think?” She knew exactly what I was talking about as soon as I said it, and I felt her squirm across space. Maybe she had felt me do the same seconds before.

“Ugh, that idiot Johnson doesn’t know what he’s doing. You’re lucky Engall’s your supervisor.” I smirked, then let out a chuckle.

“Yeah, I’d have to agree. Listen, I gotta get back. I’ll see you later, give Arno a kiss for me.”

“Will do.” I zipped and Velcro’d myself up before stepping back out into the cold. I steadied myself, took a breath, and opened the door.

I worked the remaining hours of my shift as I usually did, uneventfully, listening to music or joking with the few workers I got along with. When the day was done, I hopped in our rented red snowcat, and headed into town.

I picked up some treats for Arno, hoping it might make him feel a bit more comfortable before the doctor visit, and some meat from the butchery for us. I had a seared steak with onions planned. Once I was done shopping, I headed back to the snowy village where all the season’s workers were housed.

As I parked and got out of the cat, groceries in hand, I stared up into the never ending daylight. Hard to tell the time, here, I thought.

I turned the key and fumbled into our round, igloo-shaped condo. I began to place the groceries down in the kitchen, half waiting for a welcome, but none came. Making my way to the living room, I saw our family sleeping without me, Arno in his undersized bed, and Niecy on the couch, sprawled so to nearly be falling off of it, but not, as if gravity didn’t effect her. I smiled and tried to fix her before being unconsciously whacked away, and decided to head back into the kitchen.

I put music on low and started cooking, a gentle acoustic rhythm for a worn man. Arno must have woken, smelled the food, and liked it, because our bear of a dog, sick and all, could not have idled any harder if he had perched up on my head. I fed him some treats, and, seemingly satiated, he wearily returned to his bed in the living room.

I ate alone, letting Niecy have her few hours rest before work. Exhausted, and with more still to be done, I wandered upstairs to the low, second floor bedroom and collapsed. Light peered through the second story windows, but it wasn’t enough to bother me. I was already halfway to sleep.

I woke to the heavy licks of Arno’s dense tongue. I checked the time. Niecy was already on her shift. I used the bathroom, went downstairs, and cleaned the kitchen, including Niecy’s cleared plate. No leftovers.

When I checked the time again, it was already closing in on Arno’s appointment. I showered quickly and rushed to get dressed. I put on my work jumper last. Nothing better than insulated layers in the cold. As I leashed Arno and stomped on my boots, I looked to the front door and saw a post-it left there by Niecy.

‘Woke up late. In a rush. Thanks for food!’ — Ni

Yeah, ‘no problem for food,’ I thought, pulling it off the door. I would’ve liked to see her eat it, though. I turned to Arno, flashing the note with a grin.

“What do you think, Arno? You think she liked it?” Arno barked loudly for a sick dog that didn’t bark much. I crumpled the note and threw it away.

“Yeah, me too, bud. Now c’mon. Let’s get you to the doctor.” I opened the door and a harsh cold bared down on us like a wintery spirit with a grudge. But as Arno and I stepped into the sunny, frosted air of Section Nine, the chilling breeze didn’t seem so cold as other days.

The oar Is an amusing thought Pushed off against the dock Of reality, and already I’m Adrift in a sea of dreams, Stranded in a moment, I’ll spend lifetimes On its currents And then it’s All sand, I Washed Ashore Again

“Would you help me?”

The girl, a ghost, asked with a desperation that was sincere but peppered with self awareness.

Allie was walking to the gym of her housing complex and had to turn around to see the apparition. Her headphones were in, but the girl’s voice had cut through. Allie scanned her. She had curly hair and wore a sundress. She was also more faint than the others, and Allie wondered where or when she might’ve come from.

“If I can. What do you need?” The girl didn’t seem to think she would be heard, and so had trouble forming another sentence. Allie breathed a deep sigh waiting for her. She could feel others getting closer, but she focused on the girl, who was now smushing and wiggling her face in thought, trying to come up with the perfect words. “Hey, what do you need help with?” Allie spoke and the urgency shook the words out of the girl’s mouth.

“I can’t find my dad, and I don’t know where to go.” As she spoke, they both realized why the girl had so much trouble verbalizing. She started to cry, and her face shifted cartoonishly. Allie had never seen such a wet-faced ghost, blubbering and drooling. The girl’s form began to fade, and Allie awkwardly reached out to her before recalling the futility.

“Hey. Hey!” Allie tried to get the girl’s attention, but with no success. It was harder to interact with them when they weren’t focused on her. She had learned that some time ago.

She basked in failure, and looked around to make sure no one was watching. When she saw that no one was, she finally felt the wave of creatures and spirits and ghouls reaching for her, trying to connect to something, any piece of the physical world they remembered. And they would scratch and tear at the boundary between worlds through her own cursed body. She began to hear them again and again, not just the girl’s crying now, but all their pleas, all their regrets, all their souls barred for her.

And she ran, back to her condo, and slammed the door behind her. She threw her gym bag on the couch and yelled.

Years later, when Allie was alone in her apartment, a lifetime’s worth of dodging ghosts, she reached for the remote and heard an odd whirring. Thinking she might’ve left a fan on in the bedroom, she stood from the couch, hand on back, and trotted down the hall.

She opened the door to the bedroom. The fan was off, the whirring low but still audible. She turned the corner to the bathroom and placed her hand on the knob. In the moment before she turned it, she thought she felt the door vibrating, but overlooked the idea and proceeded.

The door opened and a gust of wind knocked Allie backward, onto her throbbing back. She winced in pain as a tall, dark figure in a sundress strutted from the bathroom. A mop of curls covered the figure’s head, but red eyes peered through.

The figure craned over Allie, who writhed in fear and agony, completely muted at the sight of it. As she shivered in silence, the figure’s jaw opened and stretched and bled until it was as wide as Allie was tall. Saliva and bile dripped from the teeth and gums of the form as Allie, frozen in fear now, stared down into the cavernous blackness of its throat. As she did, she saw small hands grip the rim of the bottomless gullet. What pulled itself up from the black was the girl she had left crying all those years ago, now a brimming smile spread across her face. She spoke and reached her hand out toward Allie.

“I understand now, can I help you?” In a trance, Allie grabbed the girl’s hand. Quickly the girl began to sink back down and in the span of a moment, the girl, Allie and the monstrous form, were all sucked into some dark oblivion.

What remained in Allie’s lonely apartment were all the ghosts left behind.

Ms. Feeny was better than most At keeping her classes engrossed So when the bell rang As quick as a bang She was home, rolled up and smoked!

A blade of grass among many bends at the weight of a resting butterfly. The blade bounces as the butterfly floats away.

It’s wings beat in a steady rhythm through the warm spring air. It hangs low to ground, drifting aimlessly for a while. Then it rises, almost as if to get a better view. But just as quickly as it rose, it falls back to earth, and with a soft approach, lands neatly on a bright daffodil.

It pauses for a moment, completely still on the vibrant yellow petals of the flower. As some figure begins to loom out of its sight, the butterfly relents in its stillness and unfurls its straw-like proboscis. It nourishes itself on the flower’s nectar. It’s eyes are hard and focused. But in a split second moment, it does not see the small chubby hand coming towards it. Not in time, at least, to save itself.

A young girl, little more than two years old, had waddled, then crawled, toward her father’s garden in the backyard, entranced by the fluttering insect. When she got close enough to it, she thought of nothing better than to swat at it. She caught both bug and flower, and with petal and wing mixed together in her hand, she smushed them all up.

She opened her hand curiously, wondering what had happened to the shape of it all. The butterfly’s left wing twitched while the rest of its body, wrapped up in petals, was unmoving. She might’ve cried if it weren’t for how playful she was still feeling. As a smile spread across her face, she put her hand to her mouth and began chewing.

“April!”

Her mother rushed toward her from the patio. Little April’s defiance however, manifested in quickened chewing and a hardy swallow before her mother could get to her. She forced April’s mouth open, but it was mostly empty. Her mother forced her to spit.

“Honey, why would you do that?” April’s mother’s face was all worry. April was more confused than anything, although her mother’s reactions began to make her stir and cry. Her mom sighed, smirked and rolled her eyes. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Just don’t do that again! That’s not food, baby. Okay? Understand?”

April nodded half-heartedly as her eyes wandered toward another fluttering butterfly in the garden. Her mom scooped her up and began a walk toward the house. And as her mom walked, April stared over her shoulder on the rhythmic fluttering of the butterfly she had left in the garden.

Centipedes inched through the skin With a head like a rock

Squirm in yourself and rediscover A natural fear

Anxiety shapes our movements But we will change its shape

From a balloon, ever expanding To a gentle stream

It will flow through us and outside, And the weight will lessen

A spell of bodily origin, Lining all of you

Within and without, a small word Can make all the difference