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Slippery skin of a slippery fish
Rubs against me as I swim
Through the apple green water
Of my mother's youthful memory

She would tell me stories
Of this pond, her sweet escape
And all the spirits that called it home
The entities she made friends with

Ah! How stupid!
But I never told her that
It would have broken her heart
She grew up with these spirits of the dead
So I feigned faith in her magic instead

The slippery fish, while I think
Has begun to nibble at my toes
Reflexively, I pull out my feet
And stuck to it are giant teeth

In shock, flabbergasted, I try to see
The creature that took a liking to me
It sucks my blood
And numbs my limbs

Even a toddler would know
It is not a fish
Perhaps some species
Science had yet to discover

Vigorously I shake my leg,
And pull the unknown slimy thing
Off my feet
It comes off, so easily
Unexpectedly, it begins to disintegrate,
Within my hand, into literal pieces
Above me is a golden mist,
And gently it flows with the wind

I come home without even a scar
Perhaps the bleeding wound had healed
My clothes are drenched
“Mom,” I say
“today I made a spirit friend.”

I feel her smile
From afterlife



Jasmeet has had a potent love for writing since age eleven and is currently pursuing sciences in the twelfth grade, thanks to a vague fascination with biology. For higher studies, Jasmeet will be pursuing a degree in creative writing.
Current Issue
25 Mar 2024

Looking back, I see that my initial hope for this episode was that the mud would have a heartbeat and a heart that has teeth and crippling anxiety. Some of that hope has become a reality, but at what cost?
to work under the / moon is to build a formidable tomorrow
Significantly, neither the humans nor the tigers are shown to possess an original or authoritative version of the narrative, and it is only in such collaborative and dialogic encounters that human-animal relations and entanglements can be dis-entangled.
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