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the metronome by Shannon M. Wendt
A muted voice asked, “Is he the one?”
“We shall see, Magister Guivret. We shall see.” The two men standing in
the Rotunda of Neophytes pondered their young pupil a moment longer before
retiring to the Domicile of Sages for the night.
Gavin Delbaeth lay slumbering in his bed, the slightest of grimaces
flickered across his face. A few faint beads of moisture had escaped from the
pores on his forehead and had pooled together at his hairline, creating a mat
of unruly flaxen hair at his right temple. Gavin’s chest rose and fell
rhythmically, keeping time with the metronome ticking softly on his
nightstand.
[ m o r e ]
Saint Boniface's Island by Berend ter Borg
Now that I'm leaving the island, and can only see Saint Boniface's Rock,
the Devil's Bay, and the Bay of Clowns from a distance, it is time to
put aside the day-to-day worries, and reflect on what went wrong. In
earlier years we have made some profit from our enterprise here, but
recently the colony has caused nothing but problems, losses and defeats.
It's fair to say that the problems we have encountered on this island
have been worse than what we have come across elsewhere.
[ m o r e ]
passion detroit by michael mccorquodale
on a cold michigan morning I headed into town. I parked and fed the
meter with my little coins and sighed. the world was feeling very
heavy then. I was very lost those days too, which didn't reduce the
weight any. my car was so sad sitting there at that meter, filled with
rust and desperately trying to recover from the brutal detroit winter
it had endured. I noticed that the poor illinois plates were falling
off as I walked away and I wondered if it longed for better times -
for chicago. or did I? probably not.
[ m o r e ]
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