The Dark Issue 36 by Michael Wehunt

Author:Michael Wehunt [The Dark Magazine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: dark fantasy, fantasy, horror, magazine
Publisher: Prime Books
Published: 2018-05-01T18:53:35+00:00

E. Catherine Tobler has never walked inside of a whale, but figures there’s still time! Among others, her short fiction has appeared in Clarkesworld, Lightspeed, and on the Theodore Sturgeon Memorial Award ballot. The fifth Egyptian steampunk adventure in her Folley & Mallory series arrives later this year. Follow her on Twitter @ECthetwit or her website, www.ecatherine.com.

Our Mortal Undressing

by Hamilton Perez

I. Discovery

I suppose I’m chasing the wildflowers.

I first found them while digging for worms. It’s not very often an earthworm dies of old age, but this one called to me, bloated and weary, with its body caked in pollen and a belly full of decay. The soil was soft and moist to my mouth, rich with nutrients I had no need for, yet there was something familiar about it also. Like I’d loved and tasted this earth. Like it was a part of me, and I was a part of it. Slinking through the earth, something called to me, and not just the worm.

Over mineral and plant debris, rib bones and stones, I chewed my path downward. The others wriggled desperately away from me, until I found my heart’s desire curled up in the soft, fleshy remains of a lifeform already passed.

That’s when I remembered: No . . . she’d said upon meeting me, and nothing more ever again. As far as recognition goes, it’s not the worst I’ve encountered. She was a stubborn one though, suffering constantly yet refusing to leave. A deep gash sank through her belly, coated with red.

A male of her species held her while she passed, tears running down his cheeks into his dark beard. He clutched her, and she clutched back. Even after I’d taken her, her fingers gripped him. Still I wonder what that’s like: to hold and be held. To not be alone, even when you’re most alone.

Curling my annelid body over the soft wet flesh, I found her wasted arms now crossed over her chest, and over those a wreath of wildflowers. It struck me then: the earth hadn’t simply swallowed her like the rest, returning her little flame to the great furnace below. She was buried. Purposefully. With ritual.

Might there be more little gifts, wrapped and decorated, waiting for me in the earth? Could they know me? These people who understand Goodbye before they have a word for it? Could they love me?

I took on her form, rising human and bedraggled from the soil. Worms fell from my cheeks and hair. They thrashed, exposed, around the bones at my feet, a marriage of life and death. Before leaving, I bent down and plucked a single worm, aged and suffering, from the cavity of her chest.

“I love you too,” I told it as it went limp in my hands.

II. Courtship & Garment

The night is cold, the sky black and shimmery as frost. Nearby a fire swats its golden arms against the dark, and around it, they sleep. One man keeps guard over his kin. The fire beside him whispers, flickers and curls, making his skin glow amber and orange.

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