Size / / /

Middle-aged and bifocaled, she waits at the stop sign for them to fly past,

windows open to welcome the hot air—better than watching through haze.

She grips the wheel, each new wrinkle on her hand another impossibility

between them.  Out of time.  Displaced person.  She is not supposed to be there,

her silence like a cancer—and everything vinegar on her tongue.

She is afraid to blink, to miss them, while the ice cream melts in her trunk.

Suddenly they ride with eyes ablaze, unfettered and invincible for fifteen minutes,

charging past cars, ignoring traffic lights.  There is freedom in each small rebellion.

 

The oldest with his curly hair and wild eyebrows seems to recognize her.

His mouth a full grin, his braces shining, he winks with a fleeting confidence that only comes

on two wheels in motion.  Fearless and beautiful in awkward angles,

he is like all the boys from books she adored when she was young; clever boys

with secrets—closet skeletons, noble hearts, and stepmothers' curses.

 

The bikes whir and flap, playing cards clipped to their spokes with clothespins,

and as the youngest passes, she sees the seven of clubs fastened to one wheel,

punctuating his ride with a clack-clack-clack that brings the bike one step closer

to the roar of a motorcycle.  She watches her brothers as they turn the corner

and rise up off the ground, trading wheels for wings, leaving this world behind—

endangered and unstoppable.  On the seat beside her, under needles and starwort,

are six shirts tear-stained, one still not finished, and behind her the siren draws near.



Valya Dudycz Lupescu is the author of The Silence of Trees and founding editor of Conclave: A Journal of Character. Her poetry and prose have been published in Gone Lawn, Jersey Devil Press, Mythic Delirium, Danse Macabre, Fickle Muses, Abyss & Apex, Pedestal Magazine, Doorknobs & Bodypaint, and other places. Since earning her MFA in Writing from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, Valya has worked as a college professor, obituary writer, content manager, goth cocktail waitress, and co-producer of an independent feature film. Her first comic book, Sticks & Bones, created with artist Madeline C. Matz, was successfully crowdfunded via kickstarter. They are now working on the next three issues to be published by First Comics. Her website is www.vdlupescu.com.
Current Issue
10 Jan 2022

Angela says if I want to film the rituals, I cannot do so as an outsider or a guest. The rituals are private, she says, and a secret. That is the problem, I say, I want to film them because they are a secret.
Before she knew it, she was falling out of the sky like a waterfall and through a canopy of thick, wet leaves. Fell hard into the soil.
There is a djinn for everything: every act of forgetting, every act of remembering. Every act of oppression, every act of protest. Every act of civil resistance, every arrest, every injury, every death. There is a selfish djinn, and a selfless djinn. There is a djinn for beauty, a djinn for zakhm, a djinn for kindness, a djinn for empathy. A djinn for absence, a djinn for inaction; a djinn for climate, a djinn for crisis, a djinn for war, a djinn for peace. What are words but
Issue 3 Jan 2022
Strange Horizons
By: Antonio Funches
By: Lev Mirov
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 20 Dec 2021
By: Merie Kirby
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 13 Dec 2021
By: Freydís Moon
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 6 Dec 2021
By: C. S. E. Cooney
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Podcast read by: C. S. E. Cooney
Issue 29 Nov 2021
Issue 22 Nov 2021
Issue 15 Nov 2021
By: Madeline Grigg
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 8 Nov 2021
By: Allison Parrish
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 1 Nov 2021
By: Liam Corley
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Podcast read by: Liam Corley
Issue 25 Oct 2021
Strange Horizons
Load More
%d bloggers like this: