Scareship_Issue8

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a Chinese elm. I push my eyes with the heels of my hands; the world is tilting over and leaving me behind. Finally, I lie back and stare at the sky. Sometime, after the lorikeets go shrieking overhead, I close my eyes. * * * I dream it is night again, and the land is formed of creatures. They are silent as they move, time and substance at once. They are rock tumbles become waterfalls, regathering as still pools. Then they rise from the dam, larger than the sky, muddy water coursing with serpentine rainbows. Closing. A twitter snaps my eyes open. An Indian mynah skips by. It twists a sleek head, brown and orange, and a word drops onto my tongue. Invader. I scramble up. It cocks its head, then darts into the scrub. Unafraid. Here to stay. And something unfinished inside my head completes. The sun is already down, and the night air creeps up the hill, promising danger. The dam is a dark hole, and I know the creatures are rising again. I stumble down the rocks, wanting to be home. There’s a light on in the farmhouse. But on the level, the estate lights align and I lose the path. For a few seconds, the world spins—lights, dark, lights... then, a splash. I run blind. The lights bob and silver grass whips around my feet like hands trying to pull me down. I pump my arms and pray for pavers. Finally, I see colour: the hanging baskets, and the farmhouse: roof, veranda and door. Colour everywhere. A qualm bursts through my consciousness. I hit the brakes still within the violets, and ease my foot back from the pavers. The Folk line the patio edge. And the gutters. And the roof. Thousands upon thousands; a swarm. The silver grass 26
winds around my ankles. But it’s not a snare, now. More like a hand that saves you from a fall. Tommyknocker vibrations course through my feet. The green men and the sprites are a heaving ground cover. The air moves as they inhale and exhale as one, Folk with no edge at all. Their posture says I am not welcome; I am not what left this morning. That I know secrets no one should know. Behind, the creatures rise with the full moon. Just enough light for the nightmares I know ‘'ve seen and forgotten: the Folk's razor teeth and cruel black eyes. Their ears cut to points, their battlescars, their cruel smiles. They are opportunists, magic weavers, manipulators, and make glamour to hide it all. They look into my heart; they know I have seen. If I was a child they would trick me and I would forget. Or if I didn’t, they would change me for another. But I am grown now. I’ve seen. I can never live among Folk again. I am in no man’s land between them and the creatures. I want to dissociate, castle like a rook. But I can't claim neutrality; the Folk are ours. I have a vision then: a hard, future-reel that knocks me to my knees. The tommyknockers will break through the violets. The Folk will drag me down under the turf, or, in pieces, into their hiding places in the walls. They will feed me to the Lantana spilling out into the scrub. And they will push the creatures back and back, until the advancing edge reaches the end of land and there is only legend left. There is nowhere to go. I don't belong in this country, the land of the creatures. But they are the ones holding against invasion. I pick up a tree branch, hard and gnarled. Night is coming. It is time to fight. 27
Page 2 and 3: scareship.com | scareship@gmail.com
Page 4 and 5: Spain held a lifelong fascination f
Page 6 and 7: which lay about four gunshots from
Page 8 and 9: “You will get nothing worse,” p
Page 10: about before me, some loading their
Page 13 and 14: a ghost. I picture you listening at
Page 15 and 16: * * * Someday, soon it must be, the
Page 17 and 18: At the Center of the Controversy by
Page 20 and 21: “The Edge” copyright © 2012 by
Page 22 and 23: shimmer across the horizon, camoufl
Page 24 and 25: “You don’t see,” says the sna
Page 29 and 30: “Mad Gilly & the Were-Bear” cop
Page 31 and 32: “For what? Killin’ ya? Ya ain
Page 33 and 34: maternality of the local whores and
Page 35 and 36: But Newt and Izzie surely made an u
Page 37 and 38: ut put it on nonetheless. She told
Page 39 and 40: uilt a fire and started in on seari
Page 41 and 42: his hand at wrangling and rustling,
Page 43 and 44: The Were-Bear Strikes Gilly may hav
Page 45 and 46: Inky smiled and pointed at the ston
Page 47 and 48: “It’s a long story. Just do it,
Page 49 and 50: Uhry at the bar. Their eyes locked.
Page 51 and 52: swear to you, on that night the Bul
Page 53 and 54: loody result, which Gilly stumbled
Page 55 and 56: “So what happened to my boy, then
Page 57 and 58: Inky Dugan Goes Home Gilly and Hors
Page 59 and 60: Well, that’s mah story anyway, an
Page 61 and 62: Surprisingly, his newly acquired F
Page 63 and 64: Year’s End by Kay Chronister “Y
Page 65 and 66: Em says she can see the moon and sh
Page 67 and 68: She frowns too, thoughtful. She mak
Page 69 and 70: “What if they don’t?” “They
Page 71: “Last night?” “No, the rest.
Page 74 and 75: Park. City sounds drown out their h
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huh? Come out, come out.” No resp
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a light on in a building, many floo
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he’s not likely to need—a lawn
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vegetables and salad. Fresh fruit:
Page 84 and 85:
coworkers are occasional, and he ha
Page 86 and 87:
Outside, he arranges the ear phones
Page 88 and 89:
Probably a waste of energy but he d
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of chocolate milk, and is on his wa
Page 92 and 93:
Tonight is crazy as always: lots of
Page 94 and 95:
The streets, the subway, the street
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within. She associates all of them
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and relieved. When she finds out it
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“But it was strong enough a feeli
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stands behind her. He means her no
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aloneness and stabbed him deeply. H
Page 106 and 107:
Contributors Kay Chronister (“Yea
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found online at http://www.brittany
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