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Remake of The Annunciation by E. Burnes-Jones, by Jamie TR. 4 CREATIVE
The Small Rage by Beckett L. Cantley I am in a hotel room in Buenos Aires. I stand on my desk and look down on the floor. I am silent. The beast knows he’s been caught. There is no exit. I can hear his little feet. They move, shuffling from side to side. Is he under the desk? If I move to look I risk startling him. He must think I am not here. That I’ve left. The maid came in before and I said nothing. I just stood on top of the desk as she made the bed and restocked the fridge. She paid no attention to me. Not a word. I waited until she left. I have never seen the rat, but I know he is here. When I sleep I can hear him. He comes from the corner by the doorway to the bathroom. He waits till I am absent, or asleep. Then he devours my magazines and books, and my luggage. He has never touched the furniture, though. Maybe the rats have grown so large and numerous that they have cut deals with hotel management. Some stipulation in the contract saying not to eat furniture owned by the hotel, but the guests’ items are a free for all. Whatever revenue the hotel loses, the rats pay in return. Rodents have their ways. I waited for the maid to leave so the rat thinks I have left as well. If they’re smart enough to sign contracts, they can detect my presence and lack thereof. I can hear him now. He is under the desk. I don’t move. It is vital I don’t. Then I see him. He’s a big fat one. I’m right on top of him. His little brown furry body stops to sniff the ground. He wipes his whiskered nose with his little paws. I jump down on him and cackle a monstrous wail. Have I killed him? I open my eyes and find I have landed on nothing. I see him scurrying along the side of the wall, running towards the entrance to his lair. Then he is gone. Yesterday morning Carlos Alvarez said he was going to come up to my hotel room at six o’clock in the evening and bash my head in with a hammer. A hammer with three strike marks on the handle. He meant it when he said it, too. He said it just so; “I’m going to come up to your hotel room tomorrow night at six o’clock and I’m going to beat your head in with a hammer, this hammer,” he said, and he pointed at the hammer in his hand, with the three strike marks. Three marks, for three dead people. Carlos is a pretty serious guy. I thought I would clear out my whole day so I could stay nice and tidy in the hotel room, just waiting for him. I woke up, went down to the bodega in the center of the hotel, retrieved some items to make breakfast, came back to the room, LICENSE 5
Page 3 and 4: A Note from the Editor & a Well-Des
Page 5: Jekyll’s Driftwood Native Ancesto
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Page 11 and 12: Symbolic by Felix Alegria Take me b
Page 13 and 14: History by Felix Alegria I’ve see
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Page 19 and 20: Colors of my Life, by Naureen A. Bh
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Page 25 and 26: ut was her way of calming down befo
Page 27 and 28: “The last time this happened was
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