Sungrass Girl

by Uchechukwu Nwaka

My first memory of the Light is her face. Her round eyes that swelled in curious wonder and innocent inquisition. I remember the way the light from the incandescent bulb fell on her face, outlining her dark skin in paint strokes of shimmering gold that twinkled right into her large doe eyes. Her smile was warm milk, her laughter the essence of happiness. Her hands — they were so small then, yet so calloused — reached under my forelimbs and she lifted me into the sky with an ebullition of glee so intoxicating, it reverberates through my bones till this day.

“An mmụọ!” she cried. The pitch did not startle me. Rather, it was joy lit in the pits of my gut. “Mama! Papa! An mmụọ!”

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I Will You Back to Time and Space

by Dafydd McKimm

You are ten years unborn on the evening of the day that will soon become known as G-day. I am washing dishes in the kitchen of our newly bought terrace, cleaning the residue of dinner from our finest boot-sale porcelain. I bring two glasses of wine over to the sofa, where your mother is yawning contentedly, and touch my glass gently to hers. The clink sings through the stuffy air.

“Cheers, fellow homeowner,” I say.

Your mother grins, takes a sip of her wine. Then her eyes focus on something behind me. Her glass falls; she screams; and I turn to see them for the first time: two hulking things, arms thick as tree trunks, barrel-chested, those beetle-browed primate eyes focused so intensely on us. I shout, curse, push your mother back, my head ringing like the resounding clink of the wine glasses but an alien moment ago.

Soon enough, we find out the gorillas aren’t just there for the two of us. They’re everywhere, following every living person, and they’re here to stay.

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The Eight Hundred Legs of the Rio-Niterói Bridge

by Renan Bernardo

Have you seen pictures of the unfinished Presidente Costa e Silva Bridge, with its columns telling stories of falls and drownings like tombstones for the never found and the cemented alive?

I saw many in 1972, soon after Papai vanished during the bridge’s construction, mostly by peering over my mother’s shoulders while she flipped through documents and pictures, sobbing and wondering if some ferryman could’ve rescued Papai. Perhaps a fisherman saw a hand waving desperately for help in the water? How could she be sure without staring into the glazed, distant eyes of a deceased husband? After those days, I convinced myself I’d never look at pictures of the bridge under construction again, those tall columns with their gray, ominous girders jutting out of the stone like the last, frantic gestures of hands begging for help.

Except now, twenty years after the accident, I have pictures of the unfinished bridge scattered over my desk.

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Said the Princess

by Dani Atkinson

Once upon a time in a far-off land, in a tiny room, in a tall tower, at the centre of a vast and impenetrable maze, the princess Adrienna cocked her head and frowned.

“Who said that?” said the princess.

She looked around the tower room, but saw no one.

“This isn’t funny. Who’s there?” said the princess.

She crouched by the bed. Underneath it she found the chamber pot and a nervous brown spider. The princess shuddered. Straightening up quickly and dusting off her rosy skirts, she paced the circumference of the room, searching every inch. There were not many inches to search, as after all it was a prison, and not elaborately furnished or overburdened with good hiding places.

“Where is that coming from? Who are you?” said the princess, stopping by the barred window.

“No, really, who are you? And quit saying ‘said the princess’ after everything I say!” said the prin . . . Oh.

“Yes, ‘Oh’.”

The princess . . . probably wasn’t supposed to hear that. (Continue Reading…)

A Chestnut, A Persimmon, A Cunning Lie

By Michelle M. Denham

If you are going to battle a tiger, my darling one, you need three things: a chestnut, a persimmon, and a cunning lie.

Haewon’s Omoni brought home the tiger-hearted girl and said, “This is your sister, Hyojin. She has been reborn to us, isn’t that wonderful?”

The tiger-hearted girl had amber eyes that burned, red stripes on her face, and long white teeth that gleamed in the dark. Omoni looked at Haewon like she expected her to do something. (A chestnut. A persimmon. A cunning lie.) So Haewon threw her arms around the tiger-hearted girl and said, “Hyojin-ah! I thought we’d never see each other again. I missed you so much.”

For her efforts, Haewon received a sharp bite into her shoulder. It was like four needles jabbed into her skin all at once. Haewon cried out, but she didn’t let go of the tiger girl.

“Hyojin-ah, how dare you bite your unni? You should show your older sister more respect.” She pulled back to stare at the tiger-hearted girl. She tapped her on the nose, once. “You were always just like this. Even reborn, you’re still the same. Come, I’ll show you our old room.”

Haewon took the tiger by her hand and Hyojin followed behind, suddenly meek.

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