Issue Eleven, Volume Four

From the Desk of the an Editor;

Hello and welcome to this late edition of Larks Fiction Magazine! In this issue we bring you two stories of love and loss--fear and trembling--teenage angst... Or just plain people finding their way through life.

We hope you enjoy this issue and make sure to come back next week for more great fiction from independent authors as well as updates on Fox House--our new world headquarters.

All the best,

Jessica Rowse

LFM Edior

What Really Happened

By EM Reapy

We stood in front of the well. I looked in. The water lapped. Was it as far down as the village said it was? A mile at least. It couldn’t be. He dunked the bucket and brought it back. Neither of us drank. The pail hovered. Water splished.

The village was a flicker of activity way down the steep hill. Market day. Farmers trading. Fruit and veg stalls. Fishmongers with their cold eyed catch on ice. Hippies with knitted ponchos and friendship bracelets. Baked breads, cupcakes. Pizza. Gypsy fortune tellers and a carousel spinning, playing carnival music.  

He was rubbing the nape of his neck. He wouldn’t keep eye contact. There was a hole at the knees of his black denim jeans I bought him for his twenty second. That was four years ago. His hips were still so slim. Little wrinkles forming around his eyes were the only way you’d know he was older.

‘Is it true?’ I had to ask. I didn’t want to hear but I had to ask. The choke in me was suffocating. There were whispers. I knew it was true. A woman knows.  

He coughed. Wiped his face. Pinched his eyes. He was silent. I asked again.

‘Jill, I- She- Look, it meant nothing.’

The choke finally released.

Electricity sparked in the space underneath. Fizzed around. Spit furiously.  A thunderstorm rose inside me. I felt the gales pick up. Make me dizzy. Blow me around. A roar erupted from my belly out my mouth. Lightning flashed in my brain. I was burning.

‘How could you? I trusted you.’ I struck him. Punched him. Scratched him. Bit him. Kicked him. He let me.

Blood in his mouth. Scuffs from my runners on his face. His shirt grass stained. Swells expanding on his skin. Blue and green outlines of bruises that would purple in the coming days. I roared again and picked him up.

‘I’m sorry, Jill.’

‘I loved you so much. Why?’  

We sat on the well. We said nothing for hours. He went for my hand. I seized it away from him. Every so often I’d sob. Low. Deep. He wanted to hold me but I couldn’t have his touch on me. No more.

‘We should go,’ he said and shuddered. Offered me his hoodie. I took it and zipped it up to the neck.  

Dusk was stealing blue from the sky. Replacing it with dark. I couldn’t see Jack anymore. Where he was walking. I called out. I heard the thud. He moaned. I followed the hurt noise.  

‘What happened?’ I asked him.

‘My head. I tripped. I’m after splitting open my head.’

I couldn’t see. I touched it and felt the hot sticky gush on my fingers.  ‘Shit, Jack. You’re losing it quick and fast. Shit. Shit. Shit.’

I tried to lift him. He was a dead weight. He was mumbling words.

‘Jack, I need to go and get help. Okay. I’ll be back soon. I promise. Hold on.’

‘Jill,’ he said. ‘It meant nothing. It was you. It was always you. Only you.’

I kissed his cheek and ran down the hill towards the village.  I tumbled. 

The End

About the Author;

EM Reapy has an MA in Creative Writing, from Queen's University Belfast. She edits wordlegs.com. Her short fiction has featured in international publications. She's working on a film script and collection of short stories.

Red Ears

 Photo Credit: Jessica Rowse, 2012

 Standing in a Doorway
By Daniel J. Pool


He clutched the handle, turned it, and started to go in. She stopped him before he even made it in the door; letting herself weep into his shirt. He stood there for just a moment, hesitating, wondering what to do.

He wanted to be happy, but did not know what she wanted.

She wanted to be strong, but did not know how.

“Don’t be scared. We can do this,” he said.

“But what will my parents say?” she replied.

A breeze swept the fumes of mowed grass and chlorine through the front door and around the couple. Something with wings hummed over the flower bed. The clouds slowed to a crawl. For that minute, the world stopped for two huddled in the entrance.

“Hey, it’s going to be ok,” he told her, wiping a tear off her cheek.

She replied with a nod and a choke as more tears burned rings around her eyes.

“I know.”

“I have to go back to work. Text me after you go to the doctor.” Squeezing her he kissed her forehead and said, “And tell your dad I’m not leaving town, not even if he threatens me. I’m here for you. “

Silence. The tears slowed, then stopped.

“I’ll see you after work?”

“Yes dear. “ Turning to walk away, he stopped, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Without every stepping inside, they took their first steps. Edging forward into life, the couple decided theirs.

On a rainy day in November they became a couple. In the back of a sedan in February they became lovers. And on a sunny day in October they became parents.

 The End

 

Originally published by Daily Love, 03/25/12

About the Author;
Daniel J. Pool is an IT consultant, writer, and part-time funny man from the Southern Mid-West. His works has appeared in Weird Year, Indigo Rising, and the Fringe Magazines respectfully. In his spare time he edits Larks Fiction Magazine.

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