Used to be I could trust that every morning, forest creatures would swoop in through my open window and help me dress, but with climate change, I open the same window and a river of dead bees rushes in and pools around my feet and that is not an adequate replacement.

a wastrel child: “Soon, it shall be the weekend: A time for frolics! I hope I shall have iced cream!”

you, a sensible child: “Better to let words curl dry in your mouth like blood on a summer’s pavement than to make your foolish desires known. A dream spoken is a dream that can be opposed. The world is peopled with enemies and only through silence can you be sure your hopes have time to grow in shadow, like a capped mushroom.”

apple a day keeps the doctor away

nothing can keep a dentist away

they can jettison their bones and slide through gaps in doors and windows no taller than a floss string

---

a series of mysteries set among ancient cave-dwelling peoples

The Foot in the Stew
Neanderthals Are Trouble
Why Blood on Rock

---

“We noticed you’ve got an ad-blocker,” they said, waking me up by sprinkling pristine empty candy bar wrappers on my face and across the surface of my warm duvet in the name of brand awareness.

“If you loved DNA, you’ll love new DNA 2! Everything you loved about DNA… and more!” said the wet creature slapping up against the lab’s bolted door.

—

Has this ever happened to you?

[a cell divides, then divides again]

oh noooo! Finally, there’s a better way!

[a creature with impossible limbs falls out of a tree onto a passing pedestrian]

It’s … DNA 2! All the DNA you’re used to… and some that you’re NOT!

a young bravo: ah, the work week! another chance to turn personal industry into financial stability

you (a sensible child): no one yet knows the secret languages of the birds, which is the only thing that keeps their unyielding terror from crippling us under the weight of our own empathy, mudbound as we are, for if our feathered friends can’t o’ercome fear, what hope is there for we smooth discarded artifacts of flesh?

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---

M of Ragged Feathers

oh no a trickster god turned my desires against me and instead of granting my wishes, i’m now a scarecrow in an empty field, clutching a phone with spotty wifi, typing out these words with my increasingly straw-flimsy fingers

oh nooooo o

Jazzy Doom

@signalstation what did you wish for

M of Ragged Feathers

to be a scarecrow in an empty field clutching a phone with excellent high speed internet and strong fingers made of straw

The roving carnival pulls into town. Out the school window you see figures pounding stakes, raising tents, lights on strings arcing across the park as whirling amusements power up.

That night, after a rushed dinner, you walk the strawdust paths of the carnival, gawping at stuffed animals, darts, funhouses and music, so enchanted it takes you a while to notice that every carnie is dressed like a plague doctor, their faces under leather beaked masks.

They cry: Step right up and let us cure you!

It was much easier, pre-technology, to rent a cabin on the shore of a cursed lake.

Used to be families could disappear, but you and your terrified community knew you could continue to appease the lake because westward expansion would continue to deliver new renters.

These days, you spend all your time politely responding to AirBnB reviews like “Thanks for the feedback about the missing children. We did mention that risk in our listing, but can offer a 10% rebooking discount for next time!”