My child, Your family believes in the five elements displayed in prophecies.
Prelude Prophecy of a Reincarnated Lama by Annie Bien
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Special Issue: Myths and Legends
Rabbit Island by Robert Barrett
The lobster boat pitched and slapped in the chop as they drove hard out of harbour, and westward, beneath the blackened, limestone cliffs. Here and there, two or three shags stood together, on ledges high in the rock; and higher still, puffs of green and yellowish grass appeared.
Old Gray by Jason Zwiker
There was a time when men ran as wolves through the forest by day each winter. Not until the sun sank low in the sky would they wander back to town, slough off their wolf-skins, then hang them by the door with a “Honey, I’m home.
Myth, Personal Associations with Misty Urban
The land that raised us, she and I, was scraped free of myth, tilled and squared and poisoned until there were no more clouds of birds blotting the sky, no sandhill cranes swimming prairie seas.
Let a Song Go Out of My Heart by Elaine Chiew
The little girl often squatted herself on pavements to observe the movements of ants in crevices. Held her fingers out to rain drops, watched them stipple the petals of hibiscus, pearl the stalks of flames-of-the-forest.
Consumerism as it Appeared to the Enchantress by Mandira Pattnaik
Consider the city’s skyline against the enigmatic black canvas of night. Consider a shadow creeping up on the horizon. Consider an Enchantress. A Reason. Consider the attraction of a Beckoning, just out of reach.
Black Annis by Matt Kendrick
Her body is on the ground by the pigpen. The Abbess kneels beside it, washing away the blood, scrubbing at the blue dye until there is only the winter white of her skin.
The One Who Lies in Wait by Melissa Llanes Brownlee
My son was born a shark. Mother told me we had to return him to the ocean as soon as he swam out of my birthing sea, his thrashing fins marking their passage along my canal, an explosion of salt and blood, soaking the woven mats beneath me.
Narcissus at Caldwell Park by Constance Malloy
He took the bullet between the eyes. So yes, in his third eye. A third eye absent perception or any higher vision.
When Te Kaiwhakaruaki comes/ bodies are sent tumbling through the sand dunes by Frankie McMillan
Me and Bobby under an upturned dingy on the beach trying to get it off with each other but overcome with laughter and lying there in a sandy tangle.