Adelaide Literary Magazine No. 52, December 2021

INDEPENDENT REVISTA
MONTHLY LITERÁRIA
LITERARY INDEPENDENTE
MAGAZINE
MENSAL

ADELAIDE FOUNDERS / FUNDADORES
Stevan V. Nikolic & Adelaide Franco Nikolic
Independent Monthly Literary Magazine
Revista Literária Independente Mensal EDITOR IN CHIEF / EDITOR-CHEFE
Year VII, Number 52, December 2021 Stevan V. Nikolic
Ano VII, Número 52, dezembro 2021
[email protected]
ISBN: 978-1-956635-81-2
MANAGING DIRECTOR / DIRECTORA EXECUTIVA
Adelaide Literary Magazine is an independent inter- Adelaide Franco Nikolic
national monthly publication, based in New York and
Lisbon. Founded by Stevan V. Nikolic and Adelaide Franco GRAPHIC & WEB DESIGN
Nikolic in 2015, the magazine’s aim is to publish quality Adelaide Books LLC, New York
poetry, fiction, nonfiction, artwork, and photography, as
well as interviews, articles, and book reviews, written in CONTRIBUTING AUTHORS IN THIS ISSUE
English and Portuguese. We seek to publish outstanding
literary fiction, nonfic-tion, and poetry, and to promote Joanna Kadish, Riven Wren
the writers we publish, helping both new, emerging, and (Jessica Baker), Steve Passey,
established authors reach a wider literary audience. Daniel Rothman, Skyler Thornberry,
Grace Bannon, Juan Sanchez,
A Revista Literária Adelaide é uma publicação men- Thomas Daniel, D. A. Ellington
sal internacional e independente, localizada em Nova (David Ellington), Cameron DePatto,
Iorque e Lisboa. Fundada por Stevan V. Nikolic e Ade- Barry Garelick, Vanessa Haley,
laide Franco Nikolic em 2015, o objectivo da revista é Hart Christopher Vetter, Ben Shahon,
publicar poesia, ficção, não-ficção, arte e fotografia de Malik White, Tyrenisha James,
qualidade assim como entrevistas, artigos e críticas Roy Humlicek-Spindler, Aisha O’Neil,
literárias, escritas em inglês e por-tuguês. Pretendemos Eleni Stephanides, Anthony Musca,
publicar ficção, não-ficção e poesia excepcionais assim George D. Lopdrup, Alex Brabston,
como promover os escritores que publicamos, ajudan- R.J. Fox, John Tavares, Chloe Komesarook,
do os autores novos e emergentes a atingir uma audiên- K.C. Hampton, Tyler Partnow, Logan Beeson,
cia literária mais vasta. John L. Stanizzi, Ben D’Andrea,
Ying Xuan Chian, Frank Walters,
(http://adelaidemagazine.org) H.A. Sappho, Emalisa Rose, Jamie Gibbons,
Alan Massey, Laurel Benjamin,
Published by: Adelaide Books, New York
244 Fifth Avenue, Suite D27 Bernadette Dickenson,
New York NY, 10001 Carrie Magness Radna, Mikal Wix,
e-mail: [email protected]
phone: (917) 477 8984 Sara Gelbard, Lazar Sarna,
http://adelaidebooks.org Robert Gibbons

Copyright © 2021 by Adelaide Literary Magazine

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written
permission from the Adelaide Literary Maga-zine
Editor-in-chief, except in the case of brief quo-tations
embodied in critical articles and reviews.

CONTENTS / CONTEÚDOS THE CONFINEMENT OF CHOICE
by Aisha O’Neil 80
SHORT STORIES
DAVE, THE COMPLIMENT MACHINE
RAT’S NEST by Eleni Stephanides 89
by Joanna Kadish 7
SAKURA
THE LAUNDROMAT by Anthony Musca 92
by Riven Wren 16
THE HOLE
THE CASKET OF ETERNAL WINTER by George D. Lopdrup 95
by Steve Passey 19
FLASH FICTION TWO
SIXTY MINUTES TO SUNDOWN by Alex Brabston 97
by Daniel Rothman 23
COFFEE SHOP
UNFAIR EXCHANGE by R.J. Fox 99
by Skyler Thornberry 26
THE ABLEIST
TEDDY BEAR by John Tavares 108
by Grace Bannon 28
FOOD FOR THOUGHTS
INSEPARABLE OF THE OVERCOOKED
by Juan Sanchez 31 by Chloe Komesarook 115

ALONE IN THE SNOW POLLY
by Thomas Daniel 33 by K.C. Hampton 118

1031 AVERY WAY BRING ME THE HEAD OF QUICK CLINT
by D. A. Ellington (David Ellington) 35 by Tyler Partnow 121

ETERNAL WILDFIRE
by Cameron DePatto 38 by Logan Beeson 123

by Barry Garelick 40 NONFICTION

THE SPIRIT IN THE WINDMILL BOBBY CRAWFORD
by Vanessa Haley 50 by John L. Stanizzi 127

LOST IN THOUGHT DEAR CHEATER, TELL ME WHY
by Hart Christopher Vetter 53 by Ben D’Andrea 136

FRIENDS IN REAL LIFE A RICE NOODLE STORY (AND OTHER EN-
by Ben Shahon 56 COUNTERS)
by Ying Xuan Chian 139
A NEW NEIGHBOR
by Malik White 64 TEMPERATURE FLUCTUATIONS
by Frank Walters 143
SPEARMINT SON
by Tyrenisha James 66

BLINK AND YOU MAY FORGET IT
by Roy Humlicek-Spindler 71

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POETRY INTERVIEWS

THREE ZEN DADA POEMS SARA GELBARD
by H.A. Sappho 153 Author of THE SOUND OF HER VOICE 181

BIRTHING A POEM LAZAR SARNA
by Emalisa Rose 157 Author of NEW KID DICTIONARY, BOOK BIN
BABY, and TALES OF THE SPICE MAKERS 186
I SLAM RHYMES
by Jamie Gibbons 159 ROBERT GIBBONS
Author of LABORS IN THE VINEYARDS OF
MORNINGS DESIRE 189
by Alan Massey 161

PARIS PARK, OCTOBER
by Laurel Benjamin 164

THE KING’S SPEECH
by Bernadette Dickenson 169

GOLD TREES
by Carrie Magness Radna 171

THE GIFT THAT FALLS FROM THE SKY
by Mikal Wix 175

4

SHORT STORIES



RAT’S NEST

by Joanna Kadish

Driving under a forested canopy where When we got back, thinking to get it over
slivery needle-nosed pines and slender with, I left the boys playing in the family
white birches brushed along the top of my by themselves and went to my husband’s
black Mercedes SUV, squeezed among the home office where I suspected he would
redwoods that dominated the landscape be. I knew he’d be angry. The man was a
above the Santa Clara Valley, had me gap- cyclone, barking into his phone, jiggling his
ing, my mouth opening like a fish gulping hands and feet, nothing unusual there. Be-
on dry land. New housing kept to a mini- hind him, the credenza was crowded with
mum thanks to strict zoning laws preserv- grown-up toys: 4-LOM and Jar Jar Blinks
ing the redwoods, making the California from Star Wars, assorted vintage cycling hel-
forests a haven for nature lovers. Halfway mets and a windup Sandy Kaufax. In the back
home, the more vocal of my eight year old of the room, crouching in the shadows, its
twins, Seth, screamed that he forgot his presence a constant reminder of our current
new jacket at the soccer field. That had me money woes, sat the long, slender lines of
so rattled that I turned my new ride around an Italian leather sofa which I had lined with
to go back and inadvertently plowed into plushy, damask cushions in my bid to be in-
a hydrant that had been hidden behind a terior decorator of the year, back in the day
profusion of plant life lining the roadway. when everything around us screamed com-
There was a loud smack and the fender fort and opulence, at a time our tech stocks
took a big dent. Wordlessly, I contemplated were riding high. Now all we could afford—
the damage. My hands shook on the wheel. food and gas, everything else was too much.
The boys must have understood because
they quieted down and began drawing let- “Make it next week,” David yelled into
ters with their fingers on the steamed up the phone. He was what they call a yenta.
windows, leaving me to my musings. I won-
dered what was eating me lately. I got so What grabbed my attention, his expres-
flustered when my kid said he lost a piece sive face, never could hide what he was
of clothing that I had recklessly spun the feeling. When he spotted me, the sudden
car with bushes all around, and assumed shift of emotion around his cratered eyes
wrongly that they were empty of obstacles. and wide mouth as multiple smile lines trav-
It would not have mattered so much, but it eled the length and width of his face.
was my fourth fender bender for the year.
“Sweetheart,” I said softly. My voice came
out as a squeak.

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“Shelli.” His smile widened, if that was way did I want to go to the insurance com-
possible. “Back already? I didn’t expect you pany; they would jack up our rates. Later,
for another hour.” as we were getting ready for our evening,
I started doing the shimmy in front of the
“The coach had to end the practice early.” mirror. It was only lately that I had begun
to enjoy what I saw reflected back at me in
I went to him and stood on my tippy toes, its shiny surface, yet I still did not quite be-
lightly dusting his proffered cheek with my lieve my muscles popping out everywhere.
lips, wondering with what magic I could My personal trainer told me that’s what
coax him to forget our loss of fortune. In happens from weight lifting a couple times
the old days, before the downturn, I could a week for a few years, along with eating a
tell him about a bent fender without him strict diet of whole grains and vegetables,
hitting the roof. and much less meat.

He finished his call. Outside the window, “You’re looking hot.” David whistled
the sheltering hills reared up, slanting, un- softly from his perch on the bed, his eyes
likely marvels. I decided to tell him later, playing over my toned limbs.
thinking about the night ahead. I did not
want to ruin things with the bad news, and Gratified that he openly admired what
sighed with relief to think that our boys my dedication to the gym had accomplished,
would be going to a friend’s house on an I put renewed energy into my dancing,
overnight. It would be nice to have a night hoping my movements galvanized him to
to ourselves, and I resolved to do every- think sexy thoughts. I prayed that he had it
thing in my power to make the night special, in him to want sex with me later that night.
and make him see that questions of money His upset over the stock market had caused
should not matter as much as he thought. his libido to nosedive of late, and I was on
We still had our home and our cars, our chil- a tear to get him back up to speed. I hoped
dren were well cared for, what more could his current malaise would not be something
we want? There was such a thing as wanting that dragged on.
too much. The first time I came home with a
fender bender, he had waxed philosophical, “Thanks,” I said, warming to the touch
the second time he made biting comments of satiny underpants and matching bra. “I
about my driving ability, and the third time, couldn’t have done this without your en-
he screamed at me, calling into question my couragement.”
sanity, and calling me the kind of names I
would hesitate to pin on anyone, even the My words put a smile in David’s face.
most obdurate. I tried to say something The real truth of the matter, after the boys
about the fender and ended up sputtering were born, he never stopped with com-
nonsense. I was deathly afraid of my hus- ments about my ass turning to flab and my
band’s temper. Never hit me yet, thank God. thunder thighs going south. Years later, my
Paying for the repair with cash from money body still looked like I had just given birth. I
I had saved seemed like a good plan instead went to the gym initially to shut him up, but
of spending it on a winter coat I had my once I got used to it, I enjoyed it, and now I
eye on. I thought I could get away with not was reaping the rewards. In retrospect, my
telling him about it and planned to do it on workout did not take much effort, and yet,
the down-low to keep him off my back. No for the life of me, I did not know why it took
me so long to get to the gym. Sometimes a

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person needs a dot.com crash to get off the face and opening my mouth like I was staring
couch. I left the mirror to give him a juicy kiss. at nightmarish scenario, and wailing “Oh my
His lips tasted like spun sugar. Right on cue, god” as if to top of the nightmare, the sky
he pulled my bra straps down and reached had fallen, and maybe it had. It was jarring to
his hand to a nipple, sending a shiver down see the mashed metal, scrapes of red paint
my spine. Too soon, he pulled his hand away. zagging over the black under the harsh ga-
rage lighting. Feeling constricted, as if the
“Hotshot, don’t we have a party to at- hills outside had knocked my breath away I
tend?” he said, pointing to his watch. He struggled over a cough that appeared out of
was not one to be late for anything. nowhere.

I tried to keep up a buoyant front, thinking “How did that happen?” David gasped.
he would rather pass up sex with me to be
on time for a party, but of course, we were “I don’t know,” I said, my voice sounding
longtime married, no surprise boredom had equally distraught. “Someone must have
set in. After fussing a great deal with my backed into me in the parking lot at work. I
undergarments, making David laugh from didn’t notice.”
sheer joy at my silly antics, the way I jumped
around and teased him, I finally settled down Immediately I hated the lie. And blamed
and dressed a tad more daring than my usual him. What struck me just then is how many
boots, tight jeans and tee, opting instead for hoops I had to jump through on a constant
a transparent sweater with the bra showing basis to please this man. Every misstep,
through, just for the thrill of it. Being daring every mishap he placed under a micro-
was new for me, born of my newly chiseled scope to be inspected and analyzed. Ditto
body, and I smiled to think what our friends’ on David’s grumbling about my spending
reaction would be. Later I went to the boys’ on even the necessities, making me leery
room and packed their PJs and extra clothes of his reaction to anything. I wondered
and waited with them downstairs in the if he cared for me anymore, the way he
family room with their coloring books for criticized me. Lately, it seemed I could not
their ride to arrive. The mother of another do anything right in his eyes. For hours it
boy was picking up my boys and a few others, seemed, he ranted on, describing in detail
and driving them to the party at a home on the damage from each accident, and how
the outskirts of town, which we all appreci- much my poor driving skills were costing us.
ated, for the home was hard to find in the “It’s the same story every time,” David said.
middle of a maze of lookalike housing. They “You never knew what hit you. We could go
promised to be good and kissed us both. on several vacations for the money you’re
Seth looked excited. Micah seemed hesitant; costing us.” I listened to his harsh admon-
possibly he was not sure if he wanted to be ishments without saying a word in my de-
away from home. I told him if he did not like fense as he continued chide me for being
the party, I would drive their friend’s house late for a party hosted by good friends, like
and pick him up. Micah stoutly affirmed that he was the final arbitrator of politeness
he would be fine. We went out to the ga- and good sense. I felt intense relief flood
rage where David’s sporty dark gray roadster my soul when he left off detailing my faults
was parked next to my Mercedes. He walked to turn his attention to the driving of his car.
around his car and spotted my bent fender. Leading to a big earthshattering sigh from
I acted surprised, clapping my hands to my me, bringing back his stare, shattering my

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calm. I felt like a trick horse, my insatiable man at work who flirted with me nonstop
audience demanding that I jump through and marveled at myself for actively discour-
hoops in an endless circus act. Being eval- aging him. With my marriage in precarious
uated and found wanting, knowing that he straits, knowing that my husband actively
thought me incompetent. The way I had flirted with some of my women friends, and
handed the fender benders had caused him yet I was in no mood for an affair—I said
to dislike me. This realization hit me like a something to that effect to my amorous
ton of bricks and left me reeling. co-worker, pretty much derailing a possible
thing. But then I had a history of fucking
“Oh well, one more time is not going to things up with men, thought I felt that I
ruin us,” he said, his mouth turned down. was the victim here. Somehow, everything
“Not unless you keep it up.” seemed to occur at my expense, and yet I
felt powerless to change my circumstances.
His note of resignation did nothing to al- Thinking like this I could not breathe cor-
leviate the low-grade anxiety stealing over rectly, and rushed to an open window, but
my limbs and giving me the shivers. Why the fresh air little to revive me.
it hit me now when I had been living with
this stress for months I could not fathom. I I knew where David had stashed his keys,
felt like a racehorse anticipating the starting in the pocket of his jacket that had been
gate, too preoccupied to do much else than hung up in a closet near the front door. On
snort madly at everything, my fears that his autopilot I grabbed the keys and went out
attitude had become a permanent thing to his car, got in and turned the ignition on
making it impossible for me to concentrate as if someone else was telling me what to
on anything for longer than two seconds. I do. With the seat warmer going full blast,
began wringing my hands as if they were I headed up Highway One, though in the
washcloths I wanted to clear water from. I twilight there was little to see, I enjoyed
thought if anything would make me get into views of ocean peeking through the cliffs
another fender bender, it was my sense that tufted by yellow scrub driving toward San
he judged me with a singularly critical eye. Francisco, and breathed the lovely salty air
filled with the cries of seagulls, trying to
At the party, David made a beeline for a drive the switchbacks with care. Plenty of
group of guys he knew, mostly co-workers. people derailed on this road, having bar-
The party was in David’s team’s honor, they reled over steep cliffs to their deaths. I did
were top earning sales team for the year. It not want to be among them, even in my
was held along the Monterey waterfront black mood. Thinking about my situation
on a block where cottages were kitschy and while viewing the sunset in a breathtaking
well preserved, salve for the soul. I headed beautiful environment did not provide the
straight to the kitchen. Along the way, needed illumination I sought and I shud-
people I barely knew asked if I was okay. I dered to think of the past few months, the
looked at them strangely, not aware how coffin lid closing in. As much as I thought I
panicked I must have appeared, hyper, a bit had gone as deep as a person could go, I
crazed even. I could not carry on a conver- sunk deeper, each point of crisis riskier
sation with anyone for long, my thoughts than the last. At first I merely gambled with
kept wandering to my current situation, my weight and then it became an issue of
embroiled as I was with young sons, and a health, and finally through Herculean effort
husband who scorned me. I thought of the

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I muscled together a perfect body and house, children, and hubby might again be
someone at work started to notice. I flirted persuaded to be the lover of my dreams. I
with the dude, because he lit a corner of my resolved to tough it out. Driving as carefully
heart that had been slumbering for months, as I could muster, my eagle eye checking for
maybe years, but then I got scared and out obstructions and errant drivers, I thought
of the goodness of my heart, driven by my this thing over carefully. The right course of
feeling that I should put my energies into action seemed plain as the nose on my face:
my marriage, which seemed to have gone I had to right things with David. But most of
dormant, I offered my husband as much as all, I needed to convince him that he and
he wanted, nothing for anyone else, my li- I were in this together, and be as alert as
bido on overdrive, but he acted like a cretin possible while driving, which necessitated
and ignored my overtures. Rather than play staying off the pot and booze, like the lives
the role of the spurned wife, I did what I of millions of people depended on my be-
could to make him happy, showing love to havior. I had to show him I could be a careful
him and our children, and also to his mother driver. And pledged to myself that I would
whose rudeness I could not stand, and to obey every traffic law and observe all guid-
his extended family, and not demanding ance, and never back up or make a round-
that he do the same for me or my siblings. about turn without checking everywhere for
Any other guy would have been ecstatic. hydrants. I owed my sons that much. I tight-
ened my hands on the wheel at the specter
Perhaps I should have kept it all to my- of ending up with nothing, no husband, no
self or handed it over to the co-worker on a money, no prospects. Eyes straight ahead, I
platter? Maybe there was another woman drove past the blocks of decrepit housing
in his life, and accounted for all those busi- and failing businesses ringing the outskirts
ness trips out of town. But it was just as of San Francisco like a vice, congratulating
likely he was so immersed in his work that myself on my good sense in the matter of
he could not see past his elbow. Those guys love. Good that I had not acted on that
he was talking to at the party all worked co-worker’s suggestive comments. If I was
with him, his best buddies. I was alone. careful, no one would raise the ugly stink
My so-called friends talked a good game, of my past fender benders. And the lovers
but where did their sympathies really lie? I had in the past would simply be a dream,
All they cared about: who did my hair and a memory. The possibility that I would con-
where did I get that dress? There was no tinually bash up the car made me breathe
way I could tell them my real troubles. I quickly. I felt like I was running a marathon.
wanted love, yes, that was a given. But a Why both could get what we wanted out of
girl had to be practical. Above all, I did not life? The problem was in the details. Getting
want to end up a single mother and poor. down to it, playing a humble subservient
Not for me a life shunting in and out of Mc- role to hubby was not something I longed
Donald’s and eating food off a conveyer belt. to do, but I could see no other way.
Nor would I go after another man. Knowing
that if my husband had a whiff of me gal- Smack in the middle of my ravings, I real-
livanting around, he’d cut my lifeline so to ized I had to go back to the party. I had been
speak, and end this debate, but I also real- gone at least half an hour, maybe more. If I
ized there were few other options out there. went back now, I was certain my husband
Maybe but I could get everything I wanted, would never know I had left in the first place.

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If he did question me, I had a ready answer. I’d harebrained my scheme to find lovers to
say I started my period. And then, of course, make up for the deficit at home. I was glad
I got lost trying to find a store. I hit the ac- I never went through with it, never started
celerator speeding past the tattoo parlors, playing around, although I had plenty of
check-loan agencies, motorcycle sales lots, opportunity. It seemed wrong somehow,
and endless rows of seedy bars. The public though, that I could not as a married
signs along the highways had reflective coat- woman collect lovers like some people col-
ings to discourage gang tags, a godsend for lect cars. David would guess immediately if I
folks like me. Taking the overpass, I headed did. He demonstrated an uncanny ability to
south, back to the party. This was no time to read my face, and I always seemed to reveal
fuck things up. My husband was becoming a too much. Something always muddied the
megastar. Not only was he handling sales for picture, a thought, a word, a smirk. I would
a major tech firm, he was branching out in never mean for it to get very far, but likely
real estate. He said it was too easy to make somewhere along the line I would tip my
a killing in housing, and he was a natural. For hand. Maybe I already had? I could not be
the first time in his life, he had a vision larger sure. I stopped at a stoplight a block away
than his own small needs, benefiting the from the waterfront. But then I heard the
public as well as his own coffers. He never sound of metal hitting metal, shattering
told me the particulars of his plan to create a my sangfroid and my blood turning to ice.
housing development with walking trails and The thought of how this would affect my
a park near Salinas. For some reason I could sons made my heart stop. That sharp pain
not fathom, I started to cry, castigating my- in my chest, was I having a heart attack? I
self for not applying myself harder and being clutched my chest and saw the faces of my
a better helpmate. What had I done? Had I children as I wept. Through the wet netting
destroyed everything with my bad attitude? of my eyelashes, I looked at David’s beamer
I hoped he would come around, and see that up close, and saw nothing marred its smoky
he could have it no better with anyone else. gray surface, the paint was pristine, every-
I was even willing to forgo sex and accept a thing like new Was I going crazy? And then
weak facsimile in return for the security he I saw that few cars ahead of me I saw the
offered. Having lovers might have seemed pileup: a fancy looking Porsche reeling from
the perfect arrangement, but David was not its encounter with a nondescript Honda,
a child, I did not have to spell it out for myself having smashed its rear end.
here, did I?
Back at the party, I slipped in unnoticed
It would have been a blunder to start and went to get a drink and look for my
something with someone on my team; in- husband. I could not find him anywhere.
evitable that I would run afoul of my hus- A stranger started talking to me and drew
band. I realized early on that I could not closer, his eyes roving my body. I could not
keep parts of my life neatly filed away in understand what he said. On the other side
different compartments, too much always of the room, I spotted my husband talking
seeped in. I knew my weakness when it into the ear of a good friend, or at least I
came to sex; I was the kind who would spill thought of her as a good friend. David
all. Way back when, if I had been listening peering down her bodice partially exposed.
to my cerebral cortex, my more advanced The female friend’s hair was all over the
analytical function would have realized how place, a rats’ nest, and her smudged eye

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makeup making her look like a raccoon. vocal of the twins wondered why I neglect-
Leading me to wonder what he had been ed to bring back the milk like I said I would.
doing with this woman? David saw me and So when I went back home for the gear, I
smiled his naughty smile. I smiled back and stood motionless by the car for several pre-
decided I would try and get it out of my cious minutes, lingering, trying to sort out
friend later; I did not want him to think me my muddled brain. During the drive back
jealous. Better to act like it was nothing. to the soccer field I found it impossible to
calm down and relax, worried that I had
* forgotten something else as yet undefined.

After soccer practice the next day, my boys I was still breathing hard when we ar-
held a contest to see which one could slide rived at the soccer field. Talking with other
the fastest through wet grass buoyed by mothers, I gradually quieted. But my calm
limitless energy, which they had to act out did not last long. By the time the game was
again in the station wagon, pushing each over, my good cheer quickly turned into a
other along the long bucket seat in back. big wince at the lovely way my sons fought,
I pleaded with them to stop so we could tooth bared and claw sharpened, tussling
leave. They upped the ante, started dive over some rap song. It took all my persua-
bombing from the window and then sliding sive powers to break them up. I had too
upside down against the ceiling, staring at much on my mind to care about their silly
me with wild eyes. After a time they wound fights. The minute they got home, they ran
down and plopped down, seemingly ex- screaming by with a speed that made me
hausted. I started the engine and before wonder aloud if they were being chased by
taking off, wringing my hands, I checked packs of vicious dogs. I recalled David saying
the mirror. The two tow-heads were at it earlier that he had picked up some new
again, smashing each other, snapping their video game, which probably accounted for
seat belts, rocking the car with raucous their excitement. Must be radar imbedded
laughter, taking turns describing in gory de- in children’s brains that detects the pres-
tail the soccer they played, with big boasts ence of toys, I thought with a smile. With
of how they kneed and elbowed their way David home, they ran around nonstop, stir-
to the goal several times without getting ring the heat even more and getting on
killed. Leading me to grind my teeth. Ever everyone’s nerves. Out of desperation, I di-
since I forgot their water bottles and cleats rected them toward the family room, where
at one of the soccer practices, I’d been a they could comfortably play their gaming
mess. I recalled having to hustle back home machines on the couch. The two boys
to pick up the missing items, feeling rushed bounced off each other like a couple of ping
and stupid, wondering if I was exhibiting pong balls, caroming around the room as if
early Alzheimer’s. How could I have forgot- they indeed had turned physically around
ten the most essential items needed to play and their insides were loaded full of springs.
the game other than the boys themselves? The differences between them were slight,
My worries did not at the time appear a matter of Seth being more outgoing, al-
groundless: my memory loss had started ways first with a comment, usually cynical;
earlier that day at breakfast when I forgot Micah came off generally more thoughtful,
why I opened the refrigerator. I closed it the peacemaker. Micah generally looked to
again and went back to the table. The more his brother for leadership, which Seth both

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

resented and craved, thus creating a lot of “If he gets a game, so do I,” Micah said, his
friction between the two, adding to the voice piercing.
usual jostling that occurs between brothers.
“Of course,” I said with the patience of Job.
David said something I could not hear,
too preoccupied with the shenanigans of “Good,” Micah shouted before diving
our boys to pay much mind to anything else, back to his hand-held entertainment center.
calling each other ‘stinky’ and challenging
each other’s gaming skills. But David did not “How do we know you’re not just saying
seem to mind, it was obvious the way he that?” Seth always bored down to the es-
hugged and kissed them that he loved them sence of the matter.
a lot, and fell on the couch next to them and
just sat there, staring at them like a zombie. “We always follow through on our prom-
I sat next to him, and gave him a hug, which ises,” I said.
he returned. It was an awfully crowded
couch, but I loved that we were sitting to- “No, you don’t.”
gether and having a good time. I found that
my love bubbled up despite—or maybe be- They kept on like that until I threatened
cause of—all that displaced energy. We both to take their machines away. Most of the
watched our boys with lovesick eyes. time, they listened when they sensed I was
absolutely at my wits’ end, and this time
Micah reminded me that their birthday was no exception. Seth did not say another
was coming up in a couple weeks. At the word, glowering. Even Micah kept his mouth
mention, the other boy’s head jerked up, as shut. They got busy again manipulating
if an invisible cord had been yanked. the technological gizmos that filled their
days. With his earphones on, Micah had
“I want a new game,” Seth shouted. turned into a shadow of himself, seemingly
in another world, staring aimlessly with a
“Me, too,” Micah seconded. dreamy expression while the other merry
prankster worked his handheld game ma-
“Turn down that machine.” I grumbled chine full throttle, his eyes shooting sparks,
with the weariness of the long-suffering. drilling holes into the screen. An avalanche
“You’re breaking my eardrums.” could descend and they would not notice.

About the Author

Joanna Kadish’s short fiction has been published by Potato Soup Journal, Literary Orphans,
Cultured Vultures, Quail Bell Magazine, Citron Review, Urban Arts Magazine, and Crack the
Spine. She was a finalist in the Black Coffee & Vinyl Presents: Ice Cultures project, summer of
2018, Cutthroat 2016 Rick DeMarinis Short Fiction Contest, and received honorable mention
in GlimmerTrain’s Emerging Writers Contest for 2015 and 2016.

One of her essays won first place in Adelaide Literary Award 2019 Contest and appeared
in an Anthology in January 2020, and she was a contest finalist in the creative nonfiction
category in the Spring 2019 Pinch Literary Awards. Her work appeared in an anthology by

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Riverfeet Press, titled Awake in the World, V.2. Another essay was published in the Catamaran
Literary Review for their summer issue 2019, as well as in the Adelaide literary magazine
June 2019.

Years ago, Joanna was a regular freelance contributor for the New Jersey Regional Sec-
tion of The New York Times, and several regional newspapers and magazines, including The
Cleveland Plain Dealer and Asbury Park Press. She received a few awards for her essay and
feature writing from the Society of Professional Journalists. After self-publishing two novels,
she went for her MFA at Bennington College in Vermont. Her BA is from UC Berkeley.

15

THE LAUNDROMAT

by Riven Wren

Lilith stood folding her laundry, ignoring the “What?” came her response, confusion
dampness in favor of saving herself anoth- overriding her frozen state of fear.
er five dollars. A thickness hung in the air,
muggy with humidity. She’d barely noticed “My cat. He’s all black, with a little patch
it by then, having grown accustomed to it of white right…” His hand reached to her, a
from the nights before when she’d spent gruff finger tapping her chin as she recoiled.
hours there listening to music on her iPod “Here.”
and endlessly scrolling social media on her
phone, eyes glazing over in boredom. But it “No, I h-haven’t seen your cat,” she stam-
couldn’t be helped. She had to have clean mered.
clothing and Aaron had taken their wash-
er and dryer with him when they split. She This response only served to upset the
couldn’t very well tell him not to. He wasn’t man, whose scowl etched the smile lines of
the one who kissed someone else. age even deeper into his skin.

She closed her eyes and slouched back “Can you help me?” he asked, his stare
against the rock-hard seat, trying her best boring into her soul.
to not think of the recent past and focus
instead on the lyrics. Lo and behold, every What was she to do? This man was clearly
song seemed to fit her situation perfectly. unwell. But what if he was some psychopath
It was silly, she thought, thinking that every just waiting for her to drop her guard only
song after a breakup somehow related to to murder her the moment he’d gotten her
her. How conceited could she be? alone? She didn’t want to be on the next
episode of her favorite true crime podcast,
As a verse rang through her ears that hit and Jeffrey Dahmer was proof enough that
a bit too close to home, she groaned and women could be too trusting and happy to
pressed pause. And then she froze. help. Yes, if he got her all alone–

Deep brown eyes with flecks of gold and And then it occurred to her… They were
caramel stared back at her. Inches from her already alone. She’d been so lost in her own
face. She could feel the hot breath of this memories and her music that she hadn’t
stranger warming her skin, sending shivers noticed the only other patron leave. As this
down her spine. information sank in, her heartbeat quick-
ened, its force pounding against her chest.
“Have you seen my cat?” came his raspy She stared at his mouth, his yellowed teeth
voice. gnashing as he continued speaking to her,

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Revista Literária Adelaide

but she couldn’t snap out of it. Couldn’t those cameras caught that man perfectly
process what he was saying. center frame. He was still standing exactly
as she’d left him, like he was frozen. To say it
“Listen, girl!” he snapped, finally forcing was unnerving was an understatement. She
her attention back to his words. “Find him. felt as though he could still see her past the
Find him by midnight or I’ll fashion you into walls and the doors.
a new pet! A loyal one, at that!”
A rustling sound caught her attention,
What had he meant by that? She didn’t snapping her focus back to the task at hand.
know, but she didn’t want to question it. She rushed toward the sound, finding the
Whatever she’d thought before, this set- tiny beast in quite the predicament. He was
tled it. This man was definitely insane. She thrashing about, caught in the blinds of a
nodded and pushed herself from the seat, cracked window. He must have been trying
finally relieved of his rancid breath. Shaking, to escape through the window when he’d
she walked between the washers and gotten himself stuck, she’d reasoned. She
dryers, stuttering out, “pss, pss, pss”. She moved closer to help, but first she had to
didn’t have to turn back to the stranger to prevent his escape. She turned back to the
know he was watching her every move. She boxes, ripping a cardboard flap from one
could feel it, like shards of glass embedded and pressing it against the window. Then
in her back. Twisting deeper into her skin, she returned to the cat, gingerly lifted his
agonizing, as the seconds ticked. Every paw, and unraveled the string from him.
fleeting moment that she couldn’t locate
the man’s cat was another moment closer “What a mess you are, huh? That makes
to him making good on his word. Whatever two of us,” she murmured.
that meant.
“Speak for yourself,” came a low response.
*
She screeched, tossing the cat halfway
As the minutes passed to hours, she still across the room. Did he just speak?! She
couldn’t find the cat. Did it even exist? Was stared at the cat as he jumped effortlessly
the old man imagining things? This was ri- across the desk and the boxes back to the
diculous. But still he stared after her, in the window and swiped at the cardboard, re-
same exact position, unflinching. Unblink- vealing the broken glass once more.
ing. Like something from another dimen-
sion, unfazed by time. “You’d better high-tail it before he gets
you, too,” the cat said, his voice low and
Then she heard something. haunting and otherworldly. And then he
slipped through the window into the dark
Jingling. of night.

Jingling like the bell of a cat’s collar. But Lilith didn’t get the chance to take
his advice. She heard the tapping of bare
In an instant, she’d darted off after the footsteps behind her and shuddered.
tiny symphony of chimes. She followed it The stranger’s gnarled hand grasped her
through a door, down the hall, and into the shoulder.
back room. A security room, by the looks
of it. Not much of one, having only a single “Ya let him go. Now you’ll replace him,”
monitor and a few camera angles. One of the man’s voice cracked. Then her vision

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

broke like looking through a kaleidoscope, She looked down to her hands. What
then white noise, then there was nothing. should have been a pair of freshly mani-
Just black. cured hands were now black paws, tufts of
fur spiraling out from about the claws. What
* should have been two arms were legs and
everything attached to them was wrong.
A brightness registered within her mind, Then what should have been a scream
bringing her back from whatever darkness was instead a different kind of sharp, shrill
she’d been cast into. It was sunlight, fil- sound– A bark. No. That wasn’t quite right.
tering into the security room through that A yelp. Like a dog.
same broken window. That much, at least,
she could manage to comprehend in her Looking to her reimagined features in the
dazed state. But something else was slowly window’s reflection, she knew. The stranger
coming to the forefront of her mind. There had kept his word. And as he walked through
was something wrong. the door, she no longer shivered. He slipped
a collar around her neck and patted his
Something within her felt wrong. gnarled fingers to her head, betwixt her ears.

Her vision was different. “Now, you will be a loyal girl, won’t ya, Lily?
Dogs always are.”
Her scent.

Everything. It was all wrong.

About the Author

Riven Wren is a non-binary author with a penchant for
horror, dark fantasy, mystery, mythology, and the occult.
They also enjoy drawing and previously worked as a
professional illustrator.

18

THE CASKET OF
ETERNAL WINTER

by Steve Passey

I had not much for work, and I moved back Done, he invited me in, for a coffee or a
into my mother’s house. She asked me to beer or whatever I’d like. He did not offer
go to my uncle’s place to shovel snow for me money, and I did not ask. We went in
him because he’d had a hip replacement and he made coffee.
recently and probably needed a hand and
he might even pay me, although I should Have you ever ice-fished, he asked me?
not expect it and I should not ask for it. We should go ice-fishing. I’ve got nothing
but time now, and you’re about equally as
He seemed pleased to see me when I free. I’ve got an ice shack, we’ll sit in there
arrived, and hardly lame. I asked him how and be warm with a bottle of vodka and
his hip was and he told me that it was good. we’ll catch whatever we catch and throw
He said that they’d had him walk the hall- ‘em all back in and it’ll be a good day for
ways at the hospital after he came out from everyone, even the fish, even if they don’t
under anesthesia and then they’d put him know it.
on a treadmill for the next couple of days
and then sent him home with instructions I said I’d like that. Give me a call when
to see a physiotherapist and that he’d been you’re ready and we’ll go.
going to physiotherapy, as per doctor’s or-
ders. There is no rest now, he said, they say When the coffee was ready, hot and
you heal faster if you keep moving. black the way I believe God intended it to
be, we sat down at his kitchen table.
I told him that it looked to me like it was
working well for him. We had not even begun to drink our
coffee when he stood up and excused
I shoveled his sidewalk and his driveway himself, saying that he had to go out and
while he watched and our breath hung in check on his neighbor. He gestured out the
the air without moving. There were no window to a woman who had come out and
neighbors out and no cars came. The work started to shovel her own driveway. She was
came and went without much conversation warmly dressed, and she wore a knit cap of
and there was just the scrape of the shovel many colors. From beneath the back of her
to mark the time.

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

cap a single braid hung, it was a thousand his confession was that he figured that
hues of silver and grey and it hung to the that part of life had mostly passed him by,
middle of her back. and that things like this just didn’t happen
to guys like him. He felt lucky. Finish your
I told him that I thought she looked like coffee, he said, have two if you want, drink
she was doing ok, so have a seat and enjoy the whole pot, whatever you decide. You
the coffee. can leave whenever you like.

He demurred, saying he felt obligated to He got up and walked outside, picking up
help her. the same shovel I’d just finished clearing his
place with and going over to her side of the
I took that to mean that I, being younger street. I watched him walk over and speak
and more able, and not recently released to her, shovel in hand, and I watched her,
from hip replacement surgery, should go the tip of her nose red in the cold with the
out to help her and I offered to do just that. mist of her breath on her glasses and her
long braid a multitude of silvers swinging
Back in fifteen, I told him, and I got up with the movement of her head in their
from my seat. conversation and I thought that he probably
loved her already and that she should not
He confessed then. He told me that he’d ever cut or color her hair and that it would
been sleeping with her, and that he would be a wonderful thing for the world if she left
often help her with small chores, like yard- it like that forever.
work, or shoveling snow, and then as often
as not they’d go into her house and make I sat back down and had a second coffee
love, and that is what he intended to do now. alone. My uncle had worked on the pipe-
lines since they first had invented pipelines.
I said nothing, so he continued to speak. He’d never married or had children, and he
kept almost every dollar he scotched up
Her name is Hannah, he said, and she working in those camps that they fly you in
had been a schoolteacher. She was retired, and out of, twenty days on and eight days
just like him. Her first husband was a low- off, where people become strange in the
rent version of evil who was violent to her, weeks in the winter that are without sunrise
but she’d divorced him and then spent the and the temperatures are colder than the
next twenty years competently single. She’d surface of the moon and some people lose
married for the second time then, satisfied their minds to boredom and gamble whole
that she had at last found the real thing, but paychecks cutting cards. There weren’t
the real thing had suffered an aneurysm going to be any pipelines to go work now,
one day after their second anniversary and those days are done, that’s why I am staying
she was now a widow. She’d sold the house in my mother’s home like a child and why
she had shared with the real thing for those I am over here at his house of a winter’s
two happiest years and the one saddest day morning, grey and cold, with a snow shovel
of her life, and then she bought the house in my hands, thinking about money, but
across from my uncle, where she was pre- that’s my problem and not his.
pared to live out whatever she had left by
herself. How it happened the first time he’d I stood up to leave and looked across
crossed the threshold of her doorway and the street to her house. Her sidewalk was
lay with her in the warmth of her home
he did not say. All he told me after making

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shoveled, a testament to the orthopedic the same size, then I put the teapot back
surgeons’ skill and to the rehabilitative on top of the fridge. I left his house without
practice of having him move as soon as locking the door and didn’t look at Hannah’s
possible after the surgery and to my uncle’s window across the street and above me.
own newly embraced motivation. There,
through a slight opening in the drapes *
behind her front window I could see her
face. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes Ten years later and he has been dead for
closed and her chin lifted up. I could see her five months and it is the Winter Solstice
sweater pushed up around her neck and I and there is the sun on the ice on the rivers
could imagine her breasts bare below the and on the lakes and I dreamt twice about
hem of the sweater and her hair hanging him. In the first dream we just talked about
down to the middle of her back like a money and the cost of shingling a house
streamer of those fireworks that fall like after a storm and I remember every word
waterfalls and I knew that she must be on we spoke. I woke up and went to the bath-
top of him on her couch, and that he was room and then I came back and fell asleep
probably trying to hold that moment in its and dreamed the second dream where he
warmth and in its purity, praying to hold it talked about the forging of a knife and he
just as it was for a little longer, even if he showed me a knife he’d made, he said, from
would not have called that prayer. There iron and fire. I told him that the things we
is something gentle in the way old people make have us in them too, the animus, a lit-
make love, or at least there should be. No tle of our own animated souls. He laughed
one takes, they accept what is given. Con- and told me that was the craziest thing he’d
scious of the other’s scars, they offer their ever heard, then he pointed to frozen wa-
body as a balm. The young make love to ters miles beyond his window and told me
break things and the old make love as if that there, where the sun shines brightest
to heal. The world is mostly unfair, in that on the ice on the lake, the fish swim be-
truth you can believe, and real kindness is neath that ice and you can stand right on
rare and remarkable and fleeting and de- top of them and they aren’t afraid and they
serves to be adored when it happens. pay no mind and they do not hurry or dart
and every so often an eagle will strike the
I put my coffee cup upside down in his ice and sit with its pinions shadowing the
sink and then checked the sugar on the fish unreachable below it, crouching there
counter and found it to just hold sugar. There in disbelief that it has not caught its dinner,
was a big red flour container on his counter, and it will sit there a long while before it
I was sure he never baked so I looked in gives up and takes to flight again. It is proof
there but it was empty and just for decora- of the existence of God, he said, that the
tion. There was an ancient ceramic teapot fish knows what the eagle does not, and he
on top of his fridge, and there I found some laughed again like he had when I told him
money. He had a ton of loose change in that the part of his soul that was in his knife
there and a thick roll of bills wrapped with is called the animus, and spoke again of this,
a single blue elastic. I unwrapped the bills and said to him that the animus is the spark
and took two hundred-dollar bills out, re- of life that gives union to the iron and the
placing them with five-dollar bills from my fire. He became very serious after that and
own wallet so that the roll of cash remained we sat in silence and I waited for him to

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Adelaide Literary Magazine
speak again but he got up and handed me
the knife without a word before he walked
away, turning his back to the setting sun
over the frozen lake and walking back into
the east and into the darkness and I don’t
remember how the dream ended, only that
when I woke up, I woke up tired like I had
been walking for a long time and I knew I
had been walking after him but I could not
remember if I caught up and I do not know
if we spoke again.

About the Author
Steve Passey is originally from Southern Alberta. He is the
author of the short-story collections “Forty-Five Minutes
of Unstoppable Rock” (Tortoise Books, 2017), the novella
“Starseed” (Seventh Terrace), and many other individual
things. He is a Pushcart and Best of the Net Nominee and
is part of the Editorial Collective at The Black Dog Review.

22

SIXTY MINUTES TO
SUNDOWN

by Daniel Rothman

The Thompson gang gathered upon a hill scenarios. It’s sixty minutes to sundown.
overlooking the desert valley beneath The law won’t arrive until after we’ve left,
them. Monroe, the hardened leader of and we’ll have the cover of darkness to es-
the gang, was polishing his revolver and cape under.”
reviewing his plans for their big score. He
looked around the camp as his crew geared Burke turned towards the rest of the
up. Burke, Monroe’s timid acquaintance gang as they finished loading up their rifles
stood by his tent, sharpening his knife. Jo- and saddlebags. Riddled with anxiety, he
nah, Monroe’s best friend, was out by the reluctantly tied the saddle onto his horse
horses, drowning his sorrows in whiskey. and holstered his guns. Monroe pulled out
Nixon, Rory, and Mac, valuable gunners, his journal and reread the notes he took a
and longtime companions of Monroe, sat week prior. He beckoned Jonah over to re-
on the ground inspecting their weapons. view the plans before heading out. Jonah
Then there was Cyrus, a new member of strapped his rifle to his back and pulled out
the gang that Jonah seemed to know very a small bottle of whiskey as he walked over
well. Cyrus was a loose cannon who loved to Monroe.
explosives and alcohol like the rest of this
sorry bunch. Burke made his way over to “There are many things that can go wrong
Monroe with a concerned look on his face. here, Jonah,” Monroe said pointing at the
specifications, “We need to make sure that
“I don’t know if we should go through no law will arrive before we’re done so I
with this,” Burke said with fear in his voice, need you to send one of our boys to make
“The bank is very well guarded, I don’t think a distraction.”
we should hit it.”
“I can send Cyrus,” Jonah responded with
Monroe looked at Burke with frustra- whiskey on his breath, “He’s good with explo-
tion as he loaded his revolver. “I have been sives. I say he’s the perfect man for the job.”
planning this job for two months,” Monroe
said angrily, “I have worked out all possible Monroe nodded and then shooed Jonah
away. He looked at the rest of his crew

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

who had mounted their horses. Monroe he demanded, “unless you want to see what
mounted his horse and turned towards his the contents of your skull look like.”
posse.
The teller quivered with fear and guided
“Gentlemen!” Monroe called out to his Monroe to the vault door. The door was
gang, “The time has come to pay Uncle Sam made of steel, its black exterior shined under
a social call. We do this quietly and we’ll be the lights within the bank. The vault door was
out of here before sundown. Let’s ride!” shut tight by a single dial lock in the center.

The gang took off on their horses, their Monroe shoved the teller and pointed a
saddlebags flapping in the wind. Each gang gun at his head. “Open it!” Monroe shouted
member pulled up their bandana as they as the teller scrambled to his feet.
neared their destination.
The teller began to turn the lock as
* sweat rolled down his face. Jonah and Nixon
stood in the bank’s lobby, watching over the
The gang gathered up on the side of build- townsfolk. Nixon looked out the window
ing. It was thirty minutes to sundown and searching for any lawmen. The lock on the
the plan was about to unfold. Monroe vault door clicked and the teller pulled the
pushed himself to the front, a revolver in latch. Monroe gave a slight smirk of grati-
his hand. He turned back towards his crew. tude before whipping the teller with his re-
volver. As the teller lay unconscious on the
“Cyrus, go on and make that distraction,” floor, Monroe entered as Nixon followed in
Monroe commanded, “Burke, Mac, Rory, behind and passed a stick of dynamite to
you stay out here and keep watch. Keep him. Two safes stood in front of them, each
out of sight and try not to look suspicious. of them also armed with a dial lock. Monroe
Jonah, Nixon, you’re with me. Let’s go make planted a stick of dynamite on each of them.
ourselves some money.”
“Dammit! Where is Cyrus with that dis-
The gang broke off into groups as traction?” Monroe said with frustration,
Monroe entered the bank. The trio aimed “The law will be here soon!”
their guns up and Monroe gave a warning
shot to obtain everyone’s attention. Nixon shrugged at Monroe with a con-
fused look on his face. Monroe then heard
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is a robbery,” an explosion a few blocks away from the
Monroe said with a calculating tone, “Stay bank. That was the distraction he was
down and do what we say, and you’ll all live looking for. Monroe lit the fuse on the dy-
to see tomorrow.” namite and scurried out of the vault. A loud
bang went off, and Monroe peered into the
Jonah approached the bank guard and smoke-filled hole. He made his way over to
smacked him with the stock of his rifle. the safes and gazed upon the thousands of
Nixon pointed his gun at the civilians within dollars that lay inside.
the bank, making sure that they don’t move.
Monroe approached the teller and grabbed Monroe turned towards Nixon, “Nix,
him by the collar. get Burke and Mac in here, now,” he com-
manded.
With anger and aggression, Monroe
shoved the barrel of his revolver up against Nixon nodded and exited the vault. He
the teller’s forehead. “Take me to the vault,” passed Jonah who still had his sights locked

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Revista Literária Adelaide

on townsfolk. Burke and Mac entered the “This is a goddamn setup!” Rory shouted.
vault soon after and loaded up the saddle-
bags with cash. The gang drew their weapons and fired
upon the lawmen before rushing over to
As soon as all the money was collected, their horses. Rory and Mac were left behind
Monroe ushered his crew out of bank and as bullets rained from every direction. The
towards their horses. As soon as they got crew got up on their horses as Monroe
outside, they saw Cyrus limping towards looked at his pocket watch. A minute to sun-
them. He collapsed to the ground before down. The gang took off with the lawmen
he could speak, and a pool of blood began firing their weapons in the distance. As night
to form around him. A group of lawmen fell, the gang gathered after losing their pur-
emerged shortly after. suers. Monroe looked around, three gang
members short, conflicted, and distraught.
“Drop your weapons and get on your They got the money, but at what cost?
knees!” the sheriff shouted.

About the Author

Daniel Rothman is an individual from New Jersey. In his
spare time, he reads various forms of literature, frequently
writes original short stories, and brainstorms new ideas for
various forms of media.

25

UNFAIR EXCHANGE

by Skyler Thornberry

He walks away to prep. Coming back with “Well…okay, please be safe. It’s late don’t
the stenciled tattoo. “It looks awesome!” He be too long,” he said without lifting his head
places it on my right side. The rose surround- to me.
ed by thorns was an awesome idea. The tat-
too looks more amazing on my side then on I leave for the journey through the
the paper. woods behind our house. With not destina-
tion I’m mind I pick the way furthest away
“Before we start Ariana,” he said while from house, and people. I found a stump
turning on the needle. “This is a tattoo is with a single beam of moon light hitting it.
free, so I can build my portfolio. In exchange I look up, “Are you telling me to sit here,” I
thought I want you to let go of your feelings.” say as I sit down.

Giving a weird look I say, “sure?” I start to think about everything in my
life. How at school I have no friends and get
He begins to tattoo. The thoughts of the picked on because I don’t have the same
augment I had with my parents before this cloths as the other girls. My math class that
come back. How they don’t listen or ask I am failing. I ask for help but get none. Then
how I’m doing. The just want their little girl the fight I got into with my parents. Telling
to be a scholar. What about I want, does them they don’t listen and care about my
that even matter? I made it back home after feelings. The things I said to them burned
the tattoo. I went straight to my room since in my memory. Sitting on the stump I stare
my parents weren’t home. down at me shoes luminated by the moon
light. My vision gets blurry from tears
The next morning Without replying I walk forming. Without closing my eyes, I watch
out and head to school. I went to school and the tears fall onto the dirt and disappear.
was having a normal day. With me that is not My feelings of losing my mom surface.
talking to anyone, getting made fun of and
ignoring it, going to math and asking my- I look up at the moon still having tears
self what language the teacher is speaking. run down my face. I let out a howl of pain
During lunch I got a call form my dad. He as being to cry hysterically. My tattoo beings
called to let me know mom was in a car acci- to have a burning sensation. The intensity
dent and in the hospital in critical condition. grows the more hysterical I get. The sensa-
Later that night my mom passed away. tion grows to feeling like my side is on fire.
Grabbing my side, I fall off the stump onto
When we got home, I look at my dad.
“I’m going out,” I said.

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Revista Literária Adelaide

the dirt. Still crying the dirt sticks to my face. “I told you to let go of your feelings, did I
From the physical and the emotional pain, not? What caused you so much emotional
I can’t pull my self together. I grip my side pain?” As he walks us out of the building.
harder, as if to claw my skin off to stop the
burning. Screaming from the pain, I lose my “My mom dying. That does explain crap
breath a moment as I vomit. thought!”

After what seemed to be hours, I pull “I’m sorry to hear that.” While I am
myself together. Holding my side, the whole looking at him, he gestures to the upper
way home. I make it home and get into the part of the building. Him still looking at
shower. As I get under dressed to get in, in me, I look toward where he is pointing. The
the mirror I notice my tattoo has changed. name of the shop Losing Exchange.
One of the roses peddles have fallen onto a
thorn. Did I miss it? I couldn’t have. “I can’t return your feelings, nor can I
take away the tattoo. You must learn how
The next day I skipped school and went to live without emotion. If you don’t, every
to the tattoo shop. Going in I ask for J, the time you are emotionally hurt, you will have
man that did the tattoo. J comes around to physical pain as well. A rose peddle will fall
the front. “What the hell did you do to me J?” onto a thorn causing the pain,” he says
while walking away.
“I assume you’re asking about the tattoo?”
he says with a smile. A life without emotion is hard. Even
though I was trying to do it before. Letting
“Yes, the damn tattoo. Why did it feel go of emotions is hard. Having emotional
like my side was on fire last night? Oh, and and physical pain is overwhelming. I guess
to add why did a peddle fall off onto the this would be what a broken heart physi-
thorn?” cally feels like, not just emotionally.

About the Author
Skyler Thornberry from Florida. Has served four years in the Marine Corps. He is an emerging
writer.

27

TEDDY BEAR

by Grace Bannon

He’s almost stitched up! The head was He’d growl in his sleep and mutter, “Blood.
stuffed with cotton to reveal his plastered Fresh blood. Spill it. Kill.” Teddy would say
smile. Mommy said she would make his more things related to death or murder be-
body more huggable for me, so she shoved fore snoring again. I think he’s just having
feathers along the cotton for the plush. weird dreams, like as a detective or some-
thing. The previous two nights, I’ve found
I gave him a squeeze once he was fin- knives tucked under my pillow. He held one in
ished. Pouring all my love, compassion, and a hug with his plush arms when I awoke today.
kindness into this toy. He’s more than just
a toy to me. He’s my best friend. One who Bizarre. I thought to myself. I probably
I will cherish forever. His buttons for eyes shouldn’t be too worried or scared. Maybe
gave me comfort and reassurance. Finally, a he just finds the sharp objects fascinating?
friend who I can genuinely trust. I thought I know mommy told me that I was intrigued
to myself, gesticulating his limbs for a hug. I by such a thing when I first started walking.
love you, Teddy Bear. The photos, knives, and rambling are prob-
ably nowhere near related. Just a coinci-
* dence, I guess…

I love Teddy and all, but he’s been acting *
strange recently. I haven’t said anything to
mommy yet because his behavior is just… I woke up this morning with scratches all
weird. He’s fine during the day while playing over my arms and legs. I cried for hours be-
and when mommy is around, but as soon as cause I didn’t know where they came from.
it’s just the two of us, his personality flips. I hugged Teddy for comfort, only to find a
needle hidden in his leg. I widened my eyes
For the past few weeks, I’ve been finding when I saw it, switching my attention back
old photos of me crumbled up and torn. At to his button eyes. His smile felt like it grew
first, I didn’t think much of it since old things since the first day, and his stare became
tend to get more fragile over time. It’s prob- more sinister.
ably nothing. Maybe I’m not keeping the pic-
tures in a safe place? I know my friend would “Did you do this, Teddy?” I furrowed my
never do that. On top of that, Teddy has been brows and gestured towards the red marks
talking in his sleep. I didn’t pay much atten- on my limbs. Silence. The bear’s face grew
tion to it thinking it was just mumbo jumbo. more and more unsettling to look at, leaving

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Revista Literária Adelaide

me in despair. “Should I be scared?” I asked. the counter. I stood on my tippy toes to gain
The bear did nothing, again, his malicious some height and grab it. “Hello?”
grin paralyzing me.
No response.
Mommy was at work, so I decided to get
rid of the bear. I held him by his foot and “Hello? Is anyone there?” I moved it so
threw him out in the garbage. The last thing I could hear better. Heavy breathing came
I saw of him was his nefarious stare and ma- from the other line. It sent chills down my
levolent smile. I slammed the lid shut and spine. “H-hello?” I tried again with the same
ran back inside. It broke my heart to let result. My hand shook as the breathing
Teddy go like that, but I knew it was for the grew heavier and louder.
best. Although I still haven’t outgrown him,
I just didn’t know him anymore. He hurt me A figure sprinted from the bookcase to
and could hurt mommy next. Sorry, Teddy. behind the couch in the corner of my eye. I
snapped my focus towards the family room
* and gulped. The breathing stopped. Glass
shattered over the call to break the silence,
“I have to hit the bank. Will you be okay by but it was also inside the house. I hung up and
yourself?” Mommy checked her watch for threw the phone away. The petite silhouette
the time before meeting my gaze again. ran from behind the couch to the corner, using
the wall to block itself from view. I froze, so un-
“Yes, I’ll be fine,” I said, nodding to em- prepared. I’m fucking scared. I think mommy
phasize. She smiled and kissed the top of my would say something like that about now.
head.
“Die,” the figure whispered. I gasped and
“Good girl. I’ll be back soon, love you!” trembled. The silhouette revealed itself
She waved while stepping out the door. I from around the corner.
waved back and awaited the eerie silence. I
sighed and went to my room for a tea party. “Teddy?” I shouted. His button eyes nar-
I placed all my stuffed animals in a circle rowed onto me, and his embroidered grin
with one empty seat next to me. I frowned grew vile.
every time it was in view. I started to pour
tea for all my guests and myself. “Blood. Fresh blood,” he said, a kitchen
knife in his grasp. My heart sank, stomach
“More tea, Sparkleberry?” I asked the churned, and knees knocked together.
plush cupcake covered in glitter. I smiled
and nodded before pouring him another “Why, Teddy? Why? Everything was so
cup. Once I placed the teapot down, a faint sweet-”
ring came from the kitchen. I raised a brow
and stood up. “I’ll be back, everyone,” I “KILL!” he screamed, launching himself
said, looking around the table at my guests. onto me. He stabbed me until his soft ex-
I made my way downstairs to the phone on terior was stained with my blood. You were
my teddy bear, so comforting and quiet.
How did love become so violent?

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

About the Author

Grace Bannon is from Royersford, Pennsylvania. She is an arising writer who spends time
with her dogs and friends in her free time. She has received an honorable mention in Ramoirs
Literary Magazine. Follow her on Twitter @GraceBannon4.

30

INSEPARABLE

by Juan Sanchez

In a large room stood an extravagant man. The room and its occupants are filled with a
Behind and in front of him was the en- burning sensation from the heat of the fire-
trance to a hallway. Surrounding the man balls that hit Drake.
was a group of people who are armed with
spears, bows, and books. The group of peo- “This is what happens when you don’t
ple raised their weapons as a vicious growl obey me you freak of nature!” yelled Au-
echoes from the hallway in front of them. gustus as a smile formed on his face. How-
The growling gets closer and closer until a ever, that smile vanishes when the fire is
figure steps out from the hallway. The fig- dispersed by a single flap of Drake’s wings.
ure would pass for a human if it wasn’t for
the scales on its skin, the horns on its head, “Why must you do this Augustus? If word
the wings on its back, and the tail. gets out of this then war might break out
between our nations. I just want peace,”
The extravagant man looks at the figure said Drake.
with a loathsome look as he speaks “This is
as far as you go Drake the king of monsters.” “I don’t care if that happens, if war means
I can finally get rid of abominations like you,
“I’m not stopping until I see Eve, please then I welcome it!” Augustus yelled.
move king Augustus,” said Drake.
“War will help no one. I love Eve and if
“Hell no, I’m not letting a disgusting our marriage can help bring peace then it
freak like you anywhere near my daughter!” is important that I see her. Why won’t you
yelled Augustus. help us instead of opposing us?”

“Please move, I just want to see Eve. I “Never, I rather die than help the likes of
don’t want to hurt anybody.” you freaks. Tell me this monster king, who
do you love more your people or Eve? Are
“Then what happened to all the guards I you willing to risk war for something as
sent to stop you!” small as love?”

“I didn’t kill them. I knock them uncon- A conflicted look comes on Drake’s face.
scious, they’re fine.” It looks like he’s going to panic for a second,
but a familiar scent of strawberries reas-
“T-That doesn’t matter, wizards fire!” sures him.

The group of wizards stood in front of “Eve is worth a war,” said Drake.
the other guards and cast fireball on Drake.

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

“Fine, guards’ fir—” “I miss you much,” she spoke.

“Father that’s enough!” “Me too, let’s get out of here,” he told her
back.
Augustus turns around to see Eve behind
him in the hallway. “Guards, stop them!” Augustus screamed.

“Eve, how are you here? I locked your room Before the guards could get any closer,
door,” Augustus said. Drake began to grow. The ceiling crumble
and dust filled the room. Once the dust had
“I had a spare key made,” said Eve. settled, the sunlight made the red scales of
Drake’s dragon form shine like rubies. The
“But Eve list—” Augustus was cut off by sight made the guards run in fear, leaving
Eve who slapped him in the face. their king alone. Eve got on Drake’s back
and looked down at her father.
“So, what if they look different from us,
monsters are just like us,” Eve said as she “This is goodbye father. Hopefully, the next
made her way to Drake. She looked at him for time we meet, you have a change of mind,”
a couple of seconds before embracing him in said Eve as Drake flew into the distance.
a hug.

About the Author
Juan Sanchez is an emerging writer. He’s new to publishing
and lives in Florida. Twitter is @JuanS882.

32

ALONE IN THE
SNOW

by Thomas Daniel

A young man named David woke up in his “You!” David said, growling at him.
seat. Looking around, he saw he was still in
the plane, not seeing any survivors. He cut “Well, what do we have here?!” Oda asked.
himself loose from the chair, before getting
on his feet. Looking out the window, he saw Oda remembered back in middle school,
the plane crash in a snowy mountain. David mocked his family because of a dif-
ferent opinion. He got back at him by
David was more than worried; he was a messing up a project he worked hours on,
little scared. He had never been in this sit- costing David his grades.
uation before, nor was he expected it. The
scariest part was that he didn’t know if he “Because of you I had to take another
was going to survive. year of middle school!” David snapped.

“Well, well, well,” a voice came. “Looky “That’s what you get for making fun of
what we have here!” my family!” Oda replied.

David turned to see the mean stranger “You egocentric brat!” David insulted.
he met on the plane earlier. The other
man’s name was Oda, who glared at David. “You dumb monkey!” Oda said back at
They got in a huge fight about an hour ago him.
and were least expecting each other. Of all
the people who could have survived, it was Thankfully a security guard stop them
David and Oda, this just got worse for both. from couniting and had them sit away from
each other.

Flashback Resumes to present

Before David got on the plane, he bumped David signed loudly before saying, “Looks
into Oda. He was about to apologize, only to like we’re going to have to work together.”
see they were Oda. He was the man who ru-
ined his project back in middle school. “Why the hell should I work with you!”
Oda snapped. “You hate me anyway!”

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

“We don’t have a choice!” David answered. Oda was able to collect a ton of food
“It’s just the two of us in this freezing cold placing, it all in his backpack. He turned to
mountain! If we want to survive, we have to see David struggling to find food. Oda didn’t
work together!” want to help him but realized it wouldn’t
make him any better. Swallowing his pride,
“Give me one good reason I should trust Oda gave David some of the food he found.
you?!” Oda said in a demanding tone.
After getting out of the plane, a piece
“It’s freezing, we have no food, no water, of metal fell on Oda. Oda lends up, seeing
no shelter, nor do we have anyone else to the metal from the wing was on his legs. He
help us!” David answered. screamed in pain, trying to push the piece
off. David saw he was in peril and didn’t
Oda hated to admit it, but David was want to help. However, David also knew they
right. If they were going to make it out alive, needed each other, and he would be worse
they had to work together. by leaving Oda there. Going over, he helped
push the piece of metal off Oda. It was heavy,
“Fine,” Oda said while growling. “But just both their combined strength got it off him.
this once, don’t think we’re becoming bud-
dies!” “You know, you aren’t so bad once I get to
you know,” Oda said while smiling.
They started by searching for leftover food
in the plane. David reached for a bag of pea- “Hey, I was just about to say that,” David
nuts, only for Oda to snatched it from him. replied.

“Hey!” David said with a snap. The two young men then went to find
better shelter in the freezing cold area.
“Mine!” Oda told.

About the Author

Thomas “Cush” Daniel lives in the USA. He spends most of
his time writing stories and editing videos. Check out his
YouTube channel at Cush On YouTube

34

1031 AVERY WAY

by D. A. Ellington (David Ellington)

Why couldn’t I just have a normal day? I “Sir, you came in a car, right?” The laun-
just wanted to wash my clothes. dromat worker asked me, sounding worried.

It’s late, too late. I’ll have to call in sick to- “Uh what? Of course, I did.” I said. I read
morrow because I’ll be here at least another her nametag as she stood over me, her
hour. The lady that oversees the night shift name was “Cairo.”
had her earphones blasting the newest pop
music loud enough you could hear it over “Well, it’s just, there aren’t any cars parked
the rain outside. I could smell the remaining outside.”
bag of laundry at my side still. It mixed with
the smell of detergent and gave a hazy smell I stood up, “No, no! It can’t be stolen!”
that did nothing but give you a headache.
The lights buzzed and flickered occasionally, I rushed over to the door and peered
with the air conditioning heaving a hefty outside, but there was a problem.
whir and squeal with each rotation.
I couldn’t see anything. I mean I could
I looked back over to the lady as she see the ground, but maybe five or six feet
bobbed her head to her music. She chewed out. Beyond that it was just, darkness… void.
gum and blew bubbles every minute or so,
while being fixated on whatever magazine I looked back to the girl, who quietly
she had. tailed me to the door.

I sighed, sat down on the bench in front She asked, “De you see anything out
of me and began watching my clothes spin there?”
in the washer. Round and round and round,
it kept going, like this damned night. “No,” I said and put my hand to the window,
“but it’s probably just something with the
Why can’t those old folks listen? The clouds, or a heavy fog.”
damn download button was right there. I
mean it’s a bright, green button that reads “It’s still raining, but I’ve always been able
“Download Here.” How do you miss that? I to see the poles down the road.”
thought.
“Yeah, gimme a sec’, I’m gonna see some-
I had a tap at my shoulder, causing me thing,” I said as I opened the door.
to jump.
Cairo grabbed my arm and pulled me
back in before I could get even a step out.
She yanked me back so hard we both fell on
our backs, and I nearly landed on her.

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

“Hey! What the hell? I was just gonna “What has you so worried, John?” she
look outside!” I said, angrily. said.

She pointed at the door, “I don’t want “I’m… uh… I just need to know the time.”
you to go and leave me alone! Just wait
here, maybe it’ll pass?” “C’mon, you had a few hours to finish,
right? Besides, it’s right here,” she said,
She sounded too desperate, but as I standing up.
looked back out into the darkness, I felt an
odd chill. Like I wasn’t looking at something, I slowly turned, but I only looked as far
but it was looking at me. I sighed and got up as her neck, which extended. Farther and
from the ground first. I dusted my pants off farther, it stretched too far.
and offered her a hand to get up.
Without a tick of the clock, I dropped my
She grabbed my hand and I helped her bag and sprinted for the door.
up. Her hand was freezing cold, as if she
just pulled her arm out of Antarctica. I kept “NO!” She screeched, “Don’t leave me
glancing back into the darkness, because here, John!”
something out there kept affixing my gaze.
“Go to hell!” I said.
“You’re right, it’ll pass. It’s still raining,
after all.” I said. I reached the door. I shoved myself out
into the darkness. I ran faster than I ever
“Can I stay near you, I don’t feel comfort- had.
able at the front,” she said.
I tripped on my feet and fell into the
“Sure, grab your earphones and sit by me.” darkness on my face. My cheeks, arms, and
I pointed over to the washer and dryers, knees scraped the concrete with a sharp
“I’ve got at least two hours before I’m done, hiss. The rain stained my clothes and I ac-
anyways.” cepted whatever my fate was. I closed my
eyes and covered my head.
“My iPod died a few minutes ago. You
were gazing into the washer when I came I waited.
over to make small talk.”
Nothing happened.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I was just…” I froze. What
exactly was I doing, I thought. I looked up around me. I could see the
street pole down the road. I could feel the
Cairo walked to the benches, where my cold rain sting my face as it hit the cuts. The
remaining bag was, and sat down. I fol- moon hung with a heavy glow through the
lowed, but I kept wondering, what was I clouds. I looked over to the parking space,
doing when she tapped my shoulder? where my car was.

I sat next to her as my first set of clothes I heard the laundromat doorbell ring.
finished drying.
“Are you okay, sir?” a young lady called
Wait, I thought, I was washing these. out to me.
Why are they drying?
I looked back, shaking violently, “What
I looked around more, shit, where is the just happened?”
clock?
“Sir, you were sleeping one second, then
you dove out the door the next.”

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Revista Literária Adelaide

“There was…” I looked around me. Maybe I sat on the inside of the store but stayed
it was my imagination? right next to the store. Until she brought my
clothes bags to me, and I read her nametag.
“It was nothing, but can you wash and It read, “Cairo.”
dry my clothes? I’ll pay you for extra.”
So, I bolted.
“Sure,” she said and went back inside.

About the Author

David Ellington is an emerging writer from Alabama, where
they grew up telling scary campfire stories and reading dark
fantasy. They write short fantasy fiction and horror stories.
Follow them on Twitter @Psychout_DE

37

ETERNAL

by Cameron DePatto

“Would you like a bottle of water or anything?” ones asking the questions, so if all goes well
Said the detective. I’ll just be sitting here quietly,” said Lee as
he took the seat on my right.
“No thank you, I’m alright” I said.
Johnson takes his seat. “Now if I’m being
“Okay, I’ll be right back, so just relax for honest, I’m not entirely sure where to begin.
now and we’ll talk shortly” I’m sure you have a lot of questions as to
why you’re here, and let me tell you we may
I flinch when the door closes, and it’s fol- be just as confused as you are.”
lowed by the sound of the lock.
“What’s that supposed to mean? I mean
Why am I here? you guys called me down here, and I came
willingly thinking there would be a reason,”
I sit at the end of a table with empty I said.
chairs on either side. I don’t like the feeling
of being trapped in a room the size of a “Let’s start with this.” Johnson opens
large cubicle. There’s nothing but a clock the folder, and slides one of many pieces
and some form of security camera in the of paper over to me. “Tell me what you see
corner to look at, so I sit here fidgeting with there?” Said Johnson.
my hands. The chairs are metal and being
rather skinny makes them uncomfortable to I rotate the paper straight, and it takes
sit on. The air tastes and smells kind of stale. me more than a moment to comprehend
I notice one of those one-way mirrors from exactly what it is I’m seeing. “I-is that me?”
the cop shows my parents love. I wonder
if they’re behind there talking about me? I This photograph, it’s black and white but
think to myself. the subject is very clear, and they look ex-
actly like me. My mind is racing. It can’t be
After what feels like an eternity I hear me, so it must be a relative or something
the lock unclick, and the door opens. right? Why would they ask me to be here
then show me this?
“Hey Zoe, I’m Detective Johnson and this
is Detective Lee.” “We were hoping you could tell us. There
are more too,” he says as he passed over
I notice a folder he had tucked under his two more photographs.
arm.
As I examine them I start to feel sweaty,
“Hi there, I’m just here to observe this in- nauseous even. “Why are you showing me
terview and Detective Johnson will be the

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Revista Literária Adelaide

this? I mean what exactly are you asking me?” An awkward silence falls on the room.
I said.
“Sorry, I’m kind of freaking out right now
“We’ve done our research. These are not and I don’t know why. Since you’ve passed
the same person. They were all born years that first photo I’ve been feeling super hot
apart and across the planet. They lived sep- and now I’m all sweaty and I just want to go
arate lives never coming into contact as home and—”
far as we know. We haven’t been able to
identify anyone that knows them personally, The door opened, followed by Detective
and we don’t even have their names. Well, Lee. “Here you are Zoe, and the test you
except for one,” said Johnson. asked for Detective Johnson.”

He passed another photograph printed This water had been refrigerated, as
out on paper. soon as I saw the condensation I realized
exactly how much I needed it. I felt like I was
This one is colored. It’s like my eyes sick and had those chilly hots as I call them.
can’t communicate with my mind prop- You don’t know if you need a blanket or a
erly. They’re screaming “that’s me!” but my fan, but water always helps.
brain refuses to believe it. In what seems
like slow motion, I notice the same mole “This here is a DNA sample from that girl
at the corner of my mouth, and the eyes, in the colored photograph. To the best of
they’re the same as mine. The left being our knowledge, she was at the hospital for
brown, and the right being blue. some blood sampling as she wanted to find
out who her father was. It turned out that
I had to wipe the sweat rolling down my she wasn’t related to either of them, in fact,
forehead. “I’m sorry, I’m so hot right now. she wasn’t even related to her woman who
Could you actually get me that bottle of birthed her. But when tested with your DNA,
water please?” I asked. it came back as an exact duplicate.”

“Of course. Lee, could you grab the test I have to hold back from puking.
as well?” Asked Johnson.
“All I have to ask is this, who are you Zoe,
“I sure can,” said Lee as he stood up and and why are you present throughout our
walked out the door. history?”

As he leaves, my first thought is to follow Hot. Excruciatingly hot.
him and run out of here. Though, I’d prob-
ably get shot if I did that. I felt searing pain across my entire body.
Almost like a leg, it was asleep and now
“This sure does seem to be having an ef- after being woken up is being stabbed with
fect on you. Tell me, what’s going through needles. Through the pain I can see the
your mind right now?” room get brighter.

“I-I don’t know what is happening right “What’s happening? Ow, close your eyes
now. I mean is this a dream, or a joke? You Johnson!” Yelled Lee
haven’t asked me anything. Other than
showing me these photos, of someone who I rose out of my seat, now floating in the
looks exactly like me might I add, you hav- air.
en’t done anything either!” I almost yell.
I said, “I am eternal.”

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

About the Author

Cameron DePatto is an emerging writer from Lancaster, Pennsylvania. He spends his free
time indulging in expansive worlds found in novels and video games. Follow him on Twitter
@CJDePatto_

40

THE GREAT
INVISIBLE

by Barry Garelick

Jack was in his early fifties but looked nei- In San Francisco he was friends with
ther young nor old. His hair was white and some of the beat poets who remained there
he had a light stubble, was overweight and including Gregory Corso, Bob Kaufman, and
smoked unfiltered cigarettes. His face alter- Harold Norse. Although he was admired and
nated between boyish to tough guy, dictat- respected by these and other poets, he had
ed mostly by a grin or a scowl. not achieved their level of fame and success.
His fans and following were limited to San
He lived in San Francisco since the early Francisco where his poetry readings were
60’s. His formative years were in the 1950’s always well-attended. It was not unusual to
in New York when he started writing po- see some of the more notable poets there.
etry. Some of his poems were published
in books by small publishing houses some He made enough money to get by, but
of which had gone out of business. Other often lived on the edge of poverty. He drank
poems remained unpublished, typewritten heavily on some days, and none on others.
on yellowing paper with frayed edges and Like many who drink, his view of life varied
bound by twine, travelling with him to New from day to day depending on his degree
Orleans, Mexico, London, Los Angeles, and of inebriation or sobriety. When sober, he
now San Francisco. loved the world; when drunk the people
and things he loved often became targets
He was influenced by poets of the beat of anger. On sober days, he was known to
generation, including Jack Kerouac. When be transformed into a state of perpetual
asked, he thought the beat movement forgiveness.
was a product of media hype and that the
title “beat poet” did not apply to him. He Jack made a daily passage into North
described himself as a poet of the streets. Beach. His route varied depending on
His poems often focused on prostitutes, where he spent the night—on a couch or
drug addicts and the disenfranchised. He on the floor at a friend’s apartment, or in
referred to the people who populated his one of the rapidly disappearing residence
poems as “the invisible”. hotels in San Francisco.

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

It was late November, 1979. On his way slender man in his mid-fifties, with thinning
to North Beach, he passed a Catholic church hair and drawn face.
where a priest watering the flowers outside
the church said “God bless you”, as Jack What follows is a conversation with the
walked by. man, Sergio. Interruptions of short asides
that Jack has with people he knows have
Jack said in response: “God so loved the been omitted from the conversation.
world He gave His only begotten son to it.”
Jack: Sergio! (They hug. Jack addresses
“Always nice to start your day with John’s the people in the café): Look at the face on
Gospel,” the priest said. this beautiful guy. A timeless face, is that a
New York face or what? This man is a poet;
“Actually, I was quoting Kerouac,” Jack a true poet. We go back. Back to our New
said. The priest laughed, though Jack was York/Greenwich Village days.
fairly certain the priest didn’t know the
reference: “Because I am Beat, I believe in (The people in the café who know Jack
Beatitude”, Kerouac had written, followed laugh and applaud. The two sit down.)
by the quote from John. It didn’t matter to
Jack what the priest knew or didn’t know. Sergio: Somebody told me I might find
It was his laugh that mattered; speaking to you here.
Jack about the priest’s love of the world.
Jack: Who? Never mind. How long are
His journey into North beach ended at you here?
the Caffe Trieste where he sat smoking a cig-
arette at his usual table by one of the front Sergio: Maybe a week. I’m staying with a
windows, his clothes a vestige of an undis- friend. I’ve been thinking about moving here.
closed time in his life when whatever he
was wearing or doing looked good. Today Jack: Definitely; you should do that! Please
he wore a dark sport jacket, a tattered move here! What have you been up to?
denim vest, a bright floral shirt, and baggy
pants that sagged under the belt in front. Sergio: Not much; I was in New Mexico.
I moved to Gilroy a year ago. I wanted to be
He scribbled notes with the stub of a in California.
pencil on napkins that he kept in a pile on
the table. He scanned the lead story in a Jack: What’s in Gilroy? Besides garlic.
newspaper left behind, about the American
hostages in Teheran. Sergio: Doing construction work. Mostly.
But I’m thinking of moving like I say. I like
“The American hostages in the embassy San Francisco but it’s expensive. And more
in Teheran have to sleep with their hands crowded than I remember.
tied. During the day, they are mostly tied to
chairs, except for meals, and they are kept Jack: Yeah, tell me about it. It isn’t like
isolated from one another. They must ask it used to be in the 60’s, that’s for sure. It’s
their captors for permission to go to a bath- losing some of its innocence. It’s in tran-
room or for a glass of water, according to sition. Fewer poets, more buildings, more
some women and black hostages.” crowded. It’s changing. But there’s still
something about it that’s pretty much the
He noticed someone standing by his same. How long has it been since we’ve
table and looked up from the paper to see a seen each other?

Sergio: Three years ago. In New York.

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Revista Literária Adelaide

Jack: Yeah. At Sherry’s funeral. I said I Sergio: The other day I heard someone
would hitch-hike there when you called me. say “We need to kick Iran’s ass!”
You paid my air fare.
Jack: I hear similar things. Some people
Sergio: You said you would write a poem. are saying “Fuck the Ayatollah”, I think
people finally feel OK with saying things
Jack: I remember reading a poem. like that. We have something that justifies
an aggressive attitude without someone
Sergio: It was about boundlessness. calling you an asshole war monger.

Jack: I remember it. Sergio: I wonder how many people who
were against Viet Nam are becoming hawks.
Sergio: It was beautiful.
Jack: I don’t know. It’s hard to say. Some
Jack: So was she. people will stay loyal to whatever politics
defined them then as if it’s all black and
Sergio: She loved you. white. So they’ll say “Don’t make Iran the
villain, we’re responsible for hostages being
Jack: (Lights a cigarette; Sergio looks taken because we put the Shah in power.”
around the room.) I want to sketch you. Let And they would be correct. Others are apo-
me sketch you. litical. And others simply don’t know the
facts. And most of us won’t ever know all
(He grabs a napkin from his pile of nap- the facts.
kins, and starts to sketch.
Sergio: And where are you in all this?
I’m doing painting and drawings these
days. Even portraits. Jack: I’m for the hostages, it isn’t their
fault. I don’t think the government gets off
Sergio: How long have you been painting? free. But for now, it’s the Pearl Harbor of the
day—something that unites us. Maybe later
Jack: I started in earnest about a year things will change again. The pendulum is
ago. I’ve sold a few. always swinging one way or the other.

Sergio: That’s great! Where? Sergio: Yeah, people change. But I think
people are mostly focused on the hostages.
Jack: There’s a bookstore in the Mission. Leave them out of the political battle.
The owner likes my work.
Jack: People are always changing; for
Sergio: Fantastic. different reasons. Sometimes the change
is invisible to the person who’s changing.
Jack: He’s crazy but he pays me. That’s They don’t notice it until they wake up one
the kind of crazy I like. Turn your head to the day and wonder how they’ve become what
left. Hold it. You’re beautiful; this will be a they are. Someone was a Marxist when you
beautiful sketch. knew them years ago and now they’re a
stock broker. And sometimes they’re aware
(Holds up a partial sketch of Sergio) of it while the change is happening; some-
What do you think so far? thing is changing in them, but they can’t put
their finger on it.
Sergio: Nice. I’m almost handsome.

Jack: You’re beautiful.

*
Sergio: You following the hostage situation?

Jack: Who isn’t? I feel sorry for them. They
were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

Sergio: So you mean there’s two times Jack: Yeah, well what the hell do I know?
when people notice the invisible change? I’m a poet. I make this shit up as I go along.
It’s a long period of sleep marked by two Today I love the world. Tomorrow I might
points of realization? hate it.

Jack: It’s continuous. I mean the stock Sergio: That sounds about right.
broker who was a Marxist still thinks he’s a
Marxist. With some differences. He thinks Jack: Yeah. It’s crazy.
that whatever he’s doing is for the right
reasons and then he notices the differences. *
But goes on believing what he wants to be-
lieve. Like “doublethink”. Jack: Still writing?

Sergio: So there’s more than two points. Sergio: Still writing, yes. I had a book of
It’s like at any point he can compare and poems published last year.
he wakes up one day and notices he’s dif-
ferent? Jack: Fantastic! Is the publisher still in
business?
Jack: Yeah, maybe, who knows? It’s
whenever you notice it, I guess. I knew a Sergio: Last I heard. What are you doing
guy who if you reminded him of something these days?
he said maybe ten years ago, he’d say, “Yeah,
I was a jerk then.” The thing is, he would Jack: Still writing poems, still delighting
probably say the same thing about himself and pissing off people. Speaking of which,
ten years from now. I’m giving a reading tomorrow night. You
should come. It’s at Coffee Gallery.
Sergio: Then he isn’t changing.
Sergio: I might do that.
Jack: He is, he’s just a different kind of
jerk. Maybe more, maybe less. People think Jack: You working on anything?
I’m an asshole, but I change over the years.
Sergio: Yeah, I guess. It’s something that’s
Sergio: Are you less or more? a story and sometimes a poem. I have no
idea where it’s going.
Jack: I don’t know. What do you think?
Jack: Is it more story or more poem at
Sergio: Hard to tell. this point?

(Both laugh) Sergio: More story. I think.

Jack: People who love me accept me for Jack: What’s it about?
what I am. We become more of who we are,
I think. More of our essence. It’s the same Sergio: It’s about me.
with America; the same with the world. Al-
ways changing and it never goes back to the Jack: When does it take place?
way it was, but underneath all that, crazy as
it is, some things are always the same. Sergio: 1959. When I was young. Hitch-
hiking.
Sergio: The more things change and all
that? Jack: Doing the “On the Road” thing?

Sergio: Yeah. Pretty cliché and autobi-
ographical, I know.

Jack: Who cares? If it’s telling a story, it
doesn’t matter. The big publishers are never

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Revista Literária Adelaide

going to touch us. We’re invisible. Ferling- Jack: Where the hell is that?
hetti doesn’t give me time of day. You think
I care? You have to not care. Just write it. Sergio: It was in the middle of nowhere.
Don’t care about who hates it. It still is, except now there’s more highways
around it that take you to LA. So I start
Sergio: That all makes sense. I suppose. hitching again, and someone who looks like
I’m always second-guessing myself. Marlon Brando, driving a Rolls Royce picks
me up.
Jack: So what happens?
Jack: Incredible.
Sergio: I’m hitchhiking across the U.S.;
always thinking about returning to Sherry Sergio: He’s on his way to Los Angeles
telling her what happened, people I met, and he asks if that’s good. “That’s where
what I did. It was just before we got married. I’m going,” I tell him. He’s real quiet, doesn’t
A lot of people were doing it then: finding ask any questions. I tell him he looks like
themselves, finding America, finding them- Marlon Brando and he says that’s who he is.
selves in America. She didn’t mind. I think. He talks to me about how everything’s con-
If she did, she didn’t say. But she’s with me nected and there’s a reason for everything
all the time in the story—in my head. We that happens to us. That there’s a reason
have conversations. Sometimes she com- why he picked me up. I asked him what it
ments on what happens, other times what was. He says sometimes we never know the
I should be saying or doing or not doing. At reasons. I told him that eventually when I
one point in the story, I get picked up by get back to New York I’m going to marry
Marlon Brando. Sherry and that I knew she wasn’t going to
cheat on me. He doesn’t say anything. The
Jack: I want to hear about this. Sherry in my head says: “He’s just like he is
in the movies.”
Sergio: This guy in his twenties, picks
me up and asks me a lot of questions about Jack: Amazing.
what I’m doing and I tell him I was in the
PhD English program at NYU. He was im- Sergio: He doesn’t say anything for a
pressed until he found out I dropped out. long time and then he says “I wish you well.
He kept after me about why I would drop Give Sherry a kiss for me.” That’s the last
out. I didn’t want a PhD in it, I tell him; I just thing he says to me, as we drive into LA.
wanted to write. In my head Sherry tells me
“Tell him Kerouac dropped out of Columbia”. Jack: I never knew you met Brando.
But I tell her “I don’t see the point of doing
that.” He goes on about if it were him he Sergio: Well, actually... (He pauses) Actu-
would have continued and what he would ally, I didn’t. I made that part up.
do and keeps asking me why would I do
something so dumb?, and so on. We were Jack: (Laughs) I thought you said it was
on our way to LA, but I can’t take any more autobiographical.
of him so I tell him to let me out. He gets of-
fended, like I’m supposed to be grateful for Sergio: (Shrugs) It felt autobiographical.
a ride where he insults me the whole time.
He slams on the brakes and says “Get the Jack: Fantastic. It felt autobiographical.
hell out.” I was in a little town called Perris. That’s absolutely right. It felt like it really
happened. That’s real writing. It’s like what
James Dean said about acting. If the char-
acter you’re playing is smoking a cigarette,

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

you have to smoke the cigarette, not act like know that, because reading them you don’t
you’re smoking a cigarette. The hard part always hear the rhythms.
about writing is trying to not make it sound
like you’re writing. Jack: I think I’ve only talked to her once. I
didn’t know she was that into me. Anything
Sergio: Like Kerouac. else?

Jack: Or me. (Lights a cigarette). And Sergio: Her friend started asking her
what about the guy who was giving you about Kerouac.
a hard time about dropping out? Did you
make that up? Jack: Nice to know I’m in good company.
What about him?
Sergio: No. That really happened.
Sergio: She kind of knew Kerouac and
* this and that and they started talking about
pornography. She disagreed with the musi-
Sergio: Someone said they saw you work- cian about what constituted pornography,
ing at North Beach Pizza. but I didn’t hear the rest of the conversation.

Jack: Where the fuck did you hear that? Jack. People sometimes ask me if I knew
Kerouac.
Sergio: Diane DiPrima.
Sergio: What do you say?
Jack: When the hell were you talking
with Diane DiPrima? Jack: I talked with him, a few times. And
the only times I talked with him we were
Sergio: I was at an art opening for a friend both drunk. I can’t say I really knew the guy.
of mine a few days ago and Diane was there. He liked my poetry so I guess that’s a good
thing. But I don’t remember what we talked
Jack: She told you she saw me working at about in any detail. The only conversations I
North Beach Pizza? remember with Kerouac are imaginary ones.

Sergio: Not me, she was talking to *
someone about you; that’s what she said.
Jack: I have to level with you. Just between
Jack: Probably someone who looked like us.
me.
Sergio: Of course.
Sergio: I don’t know.
Jack: It’s true about the pizzeria; I’ve
Jack: So DiPrima was talking about me? been working there for about two weeks,
Who was the guy she was talking to? three days a week. I’m working there as a
favor to this girl I know. Judy. She’s a social
Sergio: A musician. He liked Thelonius worker. Pretty nice; she’s in her thirties.
Monk. The way he would sometimes stop
playing piano and dance to the music his Sergio: How did you meet her?
band was playing.
Jack: She heard me read at a poetry
Jack: Yeah, I like Monk too. She say any- reading and started talking to me if she saw
thing else about me besides the pizzeria me around town. So she’s kind of a friend.
bullshit? She and a friend of hers got me the gig at the

Sergio: She said that your poems are like
music. And that you have to hear them to

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Revista Literária Adelaide

pizzeria. Her friend is also a social worker. I had my own way of thinking about God.
told Judy once I was having some problems Whether that’s belief or not, I don’t know.
paying rent at the hotel. She was worried I asked if she believed. She said she was
about me, so she and her friend got me this Catholic. So was Kerouac, and I’m Jewish, I
gig. She said just do it for a few weeks. She told her, but you didn’t answer the question.
normally doesn’t help people get jobs. She She said sometimes she did, and sometimes
works with pregnant women who are addicts. not. It depended on her mood.

Sergio: Sounds like a nice person. Sergio: I’m that way.

Jack: She’s nice but very naïve. I’ll do al- Jack: A lot of people are. She wanted to
right. I’m getting by with money. I’m making know what my belief was. So I told her. I’ve
more with my paintings than my poetry and told you. Or somebody.
the bookstore that wants my art is going to
help. I’m going to quit the pizzeria job to- Sergio: It wasn’t me.
night. They’re nice people and I like Mike
who runs it, but it isn’t for me. Jack: It doesn’t matter. I’ll tell you. I think
of God as this invisible thing. Many people
Sergio: Might be a good way to make are invisible; I write about them all the
some extra money, though. What do you time. But God is a different invisible; he’s
think she’ll say? the “great invisible”. And he’s talking to
us. All the time. Sometimes we hear what
Jack: She’ll be disappointed. She wants he’s telling us. Most of the time we don’t. It
to save the world, so I’m part of her effort. takes some effort.
Don’t get me wrong. I like her. She keeps
talking about how the residence hotels are Sergio: How is he talking to us?
starting to disappear and what am I going
to do when there’s no cheap places to live. Jack: He makes you see yourself. When-
ever we see ourselves, we hear him. And
Sergio: Something to think about. he’s always saying the same thing: “Be in
love with your life. Every minute of it.”
Jack: I suppose. She asked me what I
think I’ll be doing in ten years. I said I felt like Sergio: That’s Kerouac.
I was being interviewed for a job, but she in-
sisted. So I said maybe we’ll still be friends Jack: Yeah. It’s Kerouac. That’s probably
and I’ll be babysitting her kids. Maybe I’ll no who I told, come to think of it.
longer be invisible and I’ll be going to cock-
tail parties with Ferlinghetti and Allen Gins- Sergio: So your belief in God is belief in
burg. What I won’t be doing is working in a Kerouac.
fucking pizzeria. So then I asked her where
did she think she would be in ten years. Jack: Maybe. I don’t know. Let me give
you an example. A few years ago, there was
Sergio: What did she say? this junkie I would see at a donut shop I
used to go to. I think it was on Fillmore.
Jack: She got real quiet and looked kind
of sad. She said she didn’t know. I said I Sergio: Go on.
didn’t mean to upset her. She’s still hung up
on her divorce which wasn’t too long ago. Jack: I saw him talking to this girl who
She asked me if I believed in God. I said I would come in there. She didn’t look like
she was enjoying talking to him. Then she
stopped coming in for a week or so. He was

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

still there every day though. So then she Sergio: Is that a bad thing?
shows up again, grabbing some coffee to
go and he says “How come you don’t come Jack: It depends. What do you think about
by here anymore?” In that moment, I saw when you think of Sherry?
myself. I knew I would write about him, and
I also knew that God talking to me. Sergio: Various things. Like now, I’m imag-
ining she’s here listening to us.
Sergio: How?
Jack: Tell her I said hello.
Jack: He was showing me how people
survive by hanging on to slim hopes. This Sergio: It’s not like a séance. It’s sort of
guy had hopes of getting together with like a story. Or a dream.
this girl. I saw myself in that moment, how
I hope for things—things that are going to Jack: Or a poem?
turn my life around. But I decided then that
maybe my life doesn’t need turning around; Sergio: More like a story. She watches
I wasn’t going to get caught up in that. “Be me as I make dinner. I imagine what I might
in love with your life. Every minute of it.” say to her, and her to me—about the day,
about what I’m making for dinner, about
Sergio: So he’s talking to us about our- what I was thinking about, or a dream I had.
selves. Maybe later I’ll imagine talking to her about
our conversation, and about God always
Jack: He talks about us and our relation- talking to us.
ship to the world.
Jack: You riff with her. An improvisation.
Sergio: Was he talking to Judy when you Like jazz. What do you think she’ll say about
told her your belief? our conversation?

Jack: He’s talking to everybody. I don’t Sergio: I’ll know later. Sometimes a con-
know if she made anything out of what I versation changes. I might imagine it one
told her. way early in the day, and another way later.
What I see or read or hear can affect my
Sergio: Maybe working in the pizzeria is mood and how I imagine things.
God talking to you.
Jack: What do you think she’d say to you
Jack: Funny guy! Remind me not to tell right now?
you anything again.
Sergio: Right now? She’s telling me that
* God is talking to me.

The two have been quiet for a few minutes. Jack: And what is he saying?
Jack is writing on his napkin. Sergio is star-
ing into space. Sergio: He’s telling me I love her. Every
minute of her.
Jack: What are you thinking about?
Jack puts his hands on Sergio’s shoul-
Sergio: About Sherry. I think about her a ders. Sergio wipes his eyes with a napkin
lot. Every day. Several times a day. and stands up.

Jack: Yeah. I think about certain people Jack: You should think about moving here.
more than others.
Sergio: I have to go.

Jack: Where are you going?

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