Short Fictions from Web Del Sol


Bradford Morrow

Say you were a beetle, with compound eyes, with legs to walk on, and more than two! Say your thorax glistened and glowed, your mandible threatened, your antennae waved. Say your wings flew you out over the calendar earth, you bug! You could be scarab, be dung, be darkling. You could be snout and you'd drill through wood. Consorting with ants. Pretend you were fungus. You'd rove and shine, bark-gnaw and blister. You might be checkered, predacious, or skiff. Powder-post, ship-timber, soft-weed, flea. You might be mud-loving, you soldier, you tiger. You'd leaf-mine. You'd click. You'd seed. You'd death-watch. There would be many adventures, indeed. You'd be a spy, a flower, a kitchen, a scandal; shrewd as the possum, armored as turtle. You'd run with the weevil, shun the roach. You'd snuggle in cheese or orchids or rot to sleep.
      You would crunch like crystal when trod upon,

Click on the right arrow below and go to next page