Apex Magazine Issue 67 by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Apex Publications
Published: 2014-12-28T05:00:00+00:00

Rebecca Kaplan’s work has appeared in The Daily Palette and Likewise Folio.

Desire

Kiini Ibura Salaam

Sené. Pregnant Sené. Sené of the tired skin. She whose face held a million wrinkles, each one etched deeply as if carved over the course of forty years. Sené whose blood was only twenty–four years young.

[Faru, Faru running through the bush.]

The shining eyes of her boys made her smile, but not much else touched her. Not a full–throated bird’s song, not the sun peeking pink at dawn, not her husband’s fleeting caresses.

[Faru leapt right, darted left. His hoof

slipped and his hind legs buckled.

Faru stamped his front hoof,

shook himself off and leapt up again.]

Sené had hard–working hands: dry, cracked, and bloated. With them she beat the dirt out of her family’s cloths, scaled fish, pounded root vegetables, carried crops to her husband’s mother, and avoided touching herself.

[Thin branches whipped against Faru’s face as he ran.

Faru, the flawless. Faru, the godly. Faru reeking of thick

sensuality. His huge goat eyes darted back and forth. His

god’s heart beat a fearful rhythm in his chest. His lips lay

open in a pant. Desire—his and his sister Quashe’s own

special force—throbbed through his skinny goat legs.

Desire. That which made Faru who he was.

Faru, Faru running through the bush.]

Sené’s hands were always busy. Just now, they were sweeping out the corners of the cliff dwelling she, her husband Na, and the two boys called home. Now her hands were rolling up the sleeping mats and tucking them away. Now they were building a fire.

[Faru heard the thump, thump of Laloro

thundering behind him. Laloro, great god of disease.

Faru did not look back. He reached the end

of the bush and teetered on the edge of the cliff.]

Sené pulled down a bunch of lemongrass from the hanging basket. She squatted, one hard hand holding her bulging belly. She threw the fragrant herb into the pot and watched as the bits danced and dove with the boiling water.

[Faru glanced over his shoulder. Laloro—a godly

elephant covered in hideous warts—charged at him. Faru

jumped. His hooves found footholds on the slenderest of

rock surfaces. He bounded from rock to rock until he

landed on a large outcropping. Faru skidded to a stop.]

Rocks tumbled across the entrance to Sené’s home. She put her hands to her knees and strained to rise. Her joints throbbed as she shuffled to the entrance of her dwelling.

Faru jumped down from Sené’s roof and landed on all fours. Sené opened her cracked lips to scream, but the sound died in her throat. Faru rose on his hind legs and stretched, exposing the expanse of his human torso to Sené’s gaze. The thrumming of thousands of dragonfly wings beat in her chest. She bent down to one knee.

Faru preened as he always did when admiring eyes drank in the vision of him. He was a god, yes, but he was vain. He twisted his body this way and that. Light undulated across his fur in shimmering waves. He brushed his hooves across his chest, smoothing the flat gray circle of fur that collared his throat.

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