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American Lions: Part 5In which there is a trial by fire.
One fine day, Hera strolled by the river with her dog Nightshade. She did not know that a shadowy figure waited for her at the bridge to the rest of Super District. "You!" the figure shouted as Hera approached. Nightshade barked her head off in fright. "Yes, you, with the blue eyes and dog!"
"The reaper!" Hera exclaimed. "Oh, our father who is in heaven, please don't let me die!" she prayed.
"No, woman, you're not dying, not yet, anyway," the reaper explained. "Hera's grace has a long way ahead of her, if you agree to do some favors for me."
"How do you know my name's meaning?" Hera stood with her skinny legs apart, her fringe covering her scared face.
"Oh, the reapers keep databases of the dead, just like you living ones keep records," the shadow said and pulled up his hood. He had a skull with red eyeballs instead of a face. "By the way, you can call me Koschei."
"I thought you weren't the reaper," said Hera. Nightshade whimpered.
American Lions: Part 4In which an enormous ape arrives.
Far above the skies of Earth, in deep space, a spaceship appeared from the darkness. Two aliens were looking at a monitor in the cockpit. "My liege, the test is ready to be deployed," the first alien said, pointing to a diagram on the screen.
"Excellent, the source should reach its zenith soon," said the other alien. It resembled an insect.
"When that happens, we can invade Earth and begin to feed?"
"Yes, pet. We shall descend on the next solar eclipse."
"The people hunger, my liege. I don't know how much longer they can wait."
"We all hunger, pet. Soon..." the alien lord said. "Release the test!"
"Long live the Oblivion!" the rest of the crew shouted.
"Next stop, NYC, as the humans say," the alien assistant said and twiddled its claws.
It was another fine day in Super District, and our heroes were taking a stroll around town. Such peace never lasted long, however, as the three women would soon find out. The townspeople ran helter-skelter, shout
hey newton, gravity's flawedi.
starting anew from the flutter
and the sputter of lungs.
a vacant sea filled with feathers
and tumultuous clatter,
ribs in a treacherous pattern
resembling exiting rungs.
i want to wrestle the angels,
your tendency is the ladder.
involved with full indiscretion,
trading lazy for lace.
unspool the curse of the long-
limbs in a languorous flexion
i like the stab of the ankles,
you need the curves intersected.
opting to cull my extents
with trans-dimensional vigor.
spent my dysphoric corrections
on reconnecting lax ends.
lips in a spurious accent
feign a passionate rigor.
i tie myself to the anchor,
you extricate and ascend.
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