FICTION: issue one
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The BunkerThe bunker comes equipped with tinned nutritionals, home repair manuals, and a selection of musical works deemed by a committee to be those most intriguing upon repeated listening sessions. There are canned peaches and scratchy industrial paper products. Anything that can be dehydrated is. And there's a gun, maybe for keeping people out, but also maybe for keeping people in.
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Translated from the FrenchI should not have allowed the scooter to run out of fuel. The problem is mileage. I am required to fill the tank so infrequently that I forget it even exists. I forget about combustion, about the small explosions taking place in the engine just centimeters from my feet.
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The Poor, Dead SoldiersThe war was over, but we didn’t know what to do with all the poor, dead soldiers. They lay everywhere: on the lawns, in the streets, draped across the steps of the museums. Sometimes in trees, where they had been doing a smart bit of reconnaissance work when they met their ends.
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SpringEveryone says they cannot harm you, that they look worse than they really are. They say, “Well, the big ones come from the trees. They come from outside. That’s just how things are here.” You try to listen but all you can think about is their bodies, their arms and their arms and their legs.
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