Kidney by Donald Patten

Twist the Kaleidoscope Again

by Emma Sloan

There are so many iterations of the same memory, a single one splintering into a thousand, like it’s been sifted through a kaleidoscope, but it goes something like I didn’t want to go, but it was time to leave or you were gone before I’d even realized you’d chosen to say goodbye or you can pull someone out of a burning building, but what if they’re the thing that’s on fire?

I think it’s human nature to remember someone as they were, not as they are, so I still see you as whisper-shy by the seaside, backlit by that endless summer afternoon, instead of snarling in the springtime—dizzy with delusion, frantically pulling the puzzle pieces of our lives apart until all that’s left are the jagged pieces you’ve fashioned yourself, delusions of serial killer and prostitute and liar shredding your fingers—

And there is no how-to guide on recovering from someone else’s psychosis, but I twist the kaleidoscope until there’s something that resembles seeing you one last time (I didn’t) by the water where we first walked (there wasn’t) so that you could hear that I hoped you would be okay (you won’t).

Futility

by Nemo Arator

The iceberg, he said, was visible from miles away. Like a snow-covered mountain on a plain of black glass. Similar sights were increasingly common this far into the northern seaway. However, even at such a distance one could discern the shape of numerous boats gathered around the colossus, seeming to drift in a forlorn congregation. It was the look-out who saw it first naturally, and after his initial astonishment immediately went to go tell the captain. Inevitably they changed course to investigate, for they had a duty to assist anyone in distress. The captain stood on the bridge and surveyed the strange tableaux with a telescope. But as they neared they could all see the bewildering variety of boats gathered there: yachts, schooners, tugboats, even a few trawlers like the one they operated. They issued a hail over the CB radio, but there was no answer, not a whisper.

Oddly the water became choppier as they neared, and the boat lurched as it passed over the subsurface turbulence. One of the deck-hands near the bow port-side was caught standing idle, a young fellow who was new to the ship; he slipped and fell and had to pull himself back to his feet with the aid of the rail. Moments later the first mate appeared on the bridge holding a clipboard. He must have asked what’s going on, for the captain gestured at the view before them and he looked. There was a certain bleak serenity in the scene: the crystalline monolith with its congress of derelicts, the water endless in every direction, mirrored by a dense pall of gray nimbus overhead.

When they reached the outer orbit of the abandoned boats, the radio burst out a screeching dissonance, a blazing noise that abraded the ears; the crew could hear it even down on the main deck. The captain shouted for someone to silence the damn thing and it was done. And with that, they entered the midst of the unfortunates gathered around the iceberg. As the captain navigated their vessel between them, they could see the cataracts of frost blinding every window, which was adequate proof all the ships here were deserted.

Visible only at this proximity was the small cave-like opening that was carved into the side of the iceberg, and the horizontal ledge outside of it, about twenty feet above the water. It was this the captain was angling toward. He stopped at the edge of the inner periphery, a safe distance away and stepped out onto the deck for a better look. He stared at that cave-like opening for a long moment, then he bade someone fetch the ropes. By this time the