Gods, Fame and Murderous Tendencies_LA SOÑADORA DE PARQUE OCHENTA (THE DREAMER OF 80TH STREET PARK)_
Catalog Guide:
Gods, Fame and Murderous Tendencies
This is my worst nightmare, Amara thought as she strutted down the runway, slightly swinging her hips, a glacial look on her face.Bright lights flashed around her, capturing her essence for the entire world to see. Cameras were her favourite thingamabob invented by mortals. They could bask in the beauty of a goddess for eternity. “Amara, honey. You did so well up there!” cried the designer, stripping her off and into a new gown before Amara could bwww.onedoor.cclink.She suppressed a growl as he brushed past her chest. It was by no means an accident but was so fleeting that Amara would look like a lunatic if...
LA SOÑADORA DE PARQUE OCHENTA (THE DREAMER OF 80TH STREET PARK)
Frankie placed her palm on the sacred eye and waited. Standing in silent communion with the scarred stump, she lost track of time. The park, brimming with activity—families barbecuing, kids on their bikes, volleyball and basketball games in full swing on the courts—shimmered and faded away. A sensation came over her, like a low level signal coming up from the roots buried deep in the layers of sparse grass, earth, and concrete.Was this finally it? Would this be the moment she had been waiting for? One beat, then another, then . . . nothing happened. Just the scratchy, rough-cut texture where ...
The Average Life of a Swan
I became a duckling the day being a swan became too strenuous.Calling out to whichever deity would listen, I begged to have my wings cut or shortened. I wanted the white that had inspired artists to paint me and great beauties to envy me cast off my plumage or given away to someone who could better care for its grace.The others I swam alongside were perplexed at my request.Why wish to return? Why loathe my current form? Why beg to rewind the fable of the swan?Because some of us miss our youth that much, I suppose. Some cannot look at any sign of aging without knowing what will come next. The a...
Fading Lights
(trigger warning: literary insinuation of abandonment and death)When the world was new, there was a lone god that loved the stars.The god had hung each and every one of those same stars in the sky with its own pine hands, carefully constructing artworks of great beauty that could be seen no matter where it turned its gaze.For thousands of years, the god wandered the earth beneath its feet with its eyes trained to the sky, too enamored by its own creation in the heavens to notice what it had created in the wake of its wandering. From the very footprints the god left behind, seeds of wonder and ...