Fall 2020 | Volume II
George Mason University’s only Speculattive Fiction literary magazine.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Microfiction What Will You Do at the End ofthe World? by J. Mauceri..................... 7 Carla by Alex Wright................................................................................... 10 The Rabbit by Arman Analoeui................................................................... 13 Fishing by Alex Wright................................................................................ 15 Return by Joseph Mauceri............................................................................ 17 Lucian the Lionhearted by Alex Wright..................................................... 18 Reaper by Joseph Mauceri............................................................................ 20 The Hunter by Alex Wright......................................................................... 23
Short Stories Straight Outta Roswell by Eli Vandegrift.................................................. 26 An Unlikely Alliance by Victoria Mendoza................................................ 29 Loup Garou by Victoria Mendoza.............................................................. 34 Adrift Alone by Joseph Mauceri.................................................................. 41
Poetry The Kindly One by Julie Tran..................................................................... 44 Ophelia by Julie Tran................................................................................... 47 List of Sickly Horses by Julie Tran............................................................ 48
Coloring Page.................................................................................. 50 Submit to our magazine at:
theforgegmu@gmail.com
4
The Forge
INTRODUCTION
Fall 2020
Letter to the Reader This is your Captain speaking:
H
ere we are. We got to issue two because of the love of our readers, our hard working and dedicated staff, and the generosity of our advertisers. We couldn’t
do it without you all, and we sincerely appreciate all of the individuals who talked about The Forge in some way to their friends, professors, peers, and many more. In this issue, we follow the same formula as the last, except this time, we have fantastic artwork for almost every story provided by our amazing artists that you’ll see accredited on the staff list. We have wonderful stories about terrifying monsters, giant, airships, and alien invasions. We also have poems written by our talented and extremely dedicated poet Julie Tran that capture the same magical mystery that were present in last year’s issue. As for plans for the future, we are planning on creating an e-issue of The Forge under a new name sometime in the next few months. When it will come out is another mystery, but please follow us on social media to see more updates about The Forge, our events, and about our incredible staff ! So that’s it. We’ve thanked you, we’ve given you some updates, and now you’re all ready to delve deep into the dungeons of creativity and wonder. All of the great, grandiose tales that lie within the pages of this magazine were created in the swallowing, ever-burning fires of... The Forge.
— Ethan H. Reynolds, Editor-in-Chief
INTRODUCTION The Forge
Our Beloved Staff EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
Ethan H. Reynolds MANAGING EDITOR
Victoria Mendoza EXECUTIVE EDITOR
Arman Analouei ART DIRECTOR / COVER ARTIST
James Gray ARTISTS
Norbert Barrion Donna Tran STAFF WRITERS
Victoria Mendoza Alex Wright Joseph Mauceri Eli Vandegrift EDITORS
Emma Starustka Julie Tran Peter Eccleston Carolyn Klein Bryan Christman
Fall 2020
5
Tired of Staying at Home? Join us in University Mall! AMAZING COMIC SHOP offers the latest comic books, trade collections, subscriptions, back issues, action figures, statues, manga, and more! THE
CONTACT US:
STORE HOURS:
Phone: (703) 250-6479
Email: amazingcomicshop@gmail.com
Monday – Tuesday: 10:30am – 7pm
Address: 10647 Braddock Rd Fairfax, Virginia 22032
Wednesday – Thursday: 10:30am – 8pm
FOLLOW US
Saturday: 10:30am – 8pm
FOR THE LATEST NEWS & EVENTS:
FACEBOOK: /theamazingcomicshop INSTAGRAM: @amazingcomicshop
Friday: 10:30am – 9pm Sunday: 12pm – 6pm
www.amazingcomicshop.com
MICROFICTION The Forge
Fall 2020
WHAT WILL YOU DO AT THE END OF THE WORLD? By: Joseph Mauceri
LUCIFER OF LIGHT
H
and his smile disappeared, replaced by a look of sorrow and regret. Golden tears
e ascended into the heavens.
began to fall from his eyes. He muttered
Speeding. Speeding. Faster than
only one word; “Please…”
the eye could see. Faster than light. The
The indescribably perfect being
Morningstar had returned. No man in
reached out their hand to the former devil.
Heaven could stop his ascent. He flew
The tears of sorrow in the Angel’s eyes
through the clouds, stormed through the
being replaced by tears of glee. He took a
gates, and straight into the temple. He finally
hold of God’s hand and was accepted back
halted, bowing right at the feet of God.
into his home.
All the Angels surrounding him, preparing to strike. Not one was
THE SECOND CIRCLE OF HELL
unprepared to end his existence. They murmured, shouted, and wailed at the
Back and forth, back and forth.
most beautiful of them all. His black
Nothing was more boring than watching
wings fluttered behind him. Despite his
the lustful get thrown back and forth all
bowed head, the Angels present could still
day long. The Succubus yawned while
sense a smile coming from the traitor.
relaxing in her chair.
He raised his head, staring upon the visage of the almighty being before him,
It used to be fun. Watching all of these sinners, unable to find rest for all
7
8
MICROFICTION The Forge
eternity, but after a few millennia of the
Fall 2020
I Don’t Deserve This
same thing, day after day, it started to get boring. She’d much rather be out and
“I don’t deserve this.”
about. Seducing men and women. Being
The priest thought over and over again
the reason they were forever tormented. Watching their torment then would be so
in his head. Every day and every night. “What did I do wrong? I served God
much more satisfying. But no. Since the
devoutly and righteously.” His body was
End, there had been no new meat. No one
weak from all the running. Demons could
new for her to torment. No reason for her
always smell a sinner.
to ever leave. “I wonder if they’re hiring upstairs…” And at that, a brilliant idea came to her
“I don’t deserve this.” “But I think you know that you do.” The priest stopped trudging along
mind. She spread her black, leathery
the ruined Earth as he heard a voice that
wings, and flew.
wasn’t his own invade his mind.
She flew past the tossed about souls of her home, over the Earth, now a haven of nothing but misery, and continued all
“No. I always followed God’s teaching. I was righteous and true.” “If you really were righteous you
the way until she reached the Gates of
would have stayed away from all those
Heaven. Two Angels stopped her, aiming
kids.”
their spears towards her chest. The Demon stepped back but steeled her nerves. “I’d like to become an Angel please.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. They came to me.” “Not for what you gave them.”
The two Angels looked at each other, then back to the Succubus. The Gates
THE NEW KING OF HELL
of Heaven opened to her, and she flew through them with glee.
What a wonderful day this was. The
The Forge MICROFICTION
shrieks of the sinners from all Nine
“Of course, I left after all. Besides, a
Circles of Hell rang throughout the
Demon of Wrath would be the perfect
throne room of the new king. It was like
leader of Hell during the War of
music to his ears. A symphony of pain and
Armageddon.”
suffering. And he had God to thank for his new charges. The old king may not have particularly enjoyed the torment of sinners, but the
The new king smiled, a feeling of glee welling up inside of him. “I’m looking forward to it.” The Renewed Angel disappeared in
new king did. He fed off of it, he needed
a second flash of light. The king leaned
it. After all, he was the first Demon born
back in his throne as he relaxed. He
in Hell.
knew that he was destined to lose the
Yet, for some reason, he still felt empty,
Fall 2020
Armageddon, it was as the prophecies had
like he was missing something. A tempest
always foretold, but this was exactly what
of tormented souls was all he ever wanted.
he wanted. A Demon of Wrath’s ultimate
So why did he feel so unfulfilled?
joy was their own suffering.
A beam of light struck down in front of the king. The light soon subsided and being replaced by the most beautiful being the king had ever laid his eyes on. “Hello Lucifer,” the king said, not shaken by his attractive visage. “Hello King,” the old ruler replied. “I’m here to make the transfer of power official.” “So, you’re recognizing me as the new King of Hell?”
9
10
The Forge
MICROFICTION
Fall 2020
CARLA By: Alex Wright
I
had a daughter once. Carla. She had beautiful chestnut hair and piercing
A woman stands amid a pile of bodies, most of them having sustained severe
green eyes, just like her father. She had
burns and cuts to their chests and faces.
this apple blossom perfume that she’d
Because it is hot and unusually dry, dead
always wear. I miss that smell. She was
plants make up the field around her. At
headstrong—stronger than your average
the center of it, there is a derelict building
teenager by the time the blinding light
that stands before her. The woman pulls a
washed over Ann Arbor, Michigan. Or
knife out of one of the bodies at her feet
maybe I’m just biased as her mother? She
and studies the blade’s insignia, which was
was momma’s little girl after all.
a shepherd dog of some kind. Content
She always will be.
with her work, she looks to the ragged banners, depicting the same blood-red dog,
Artwork by Jams Gray
MICROFICTION The Forge
on the building in front of her. The woman looks up toward the
The woman looks to the field around her. She takes in the sight of the decayed
blistering sun and brings her gun’s solar
flowers and tufts of dead grass once
panel up to meet it.
more. She looks down to the old, rusty
The woman stands for a moment to
Fall 2020
exoskeleton wrapped around her legs.
catch her breath, staring at a closed, rusty
Tucking her gun in between her body and
metal door the entire time. Beneath her
her left arm, she retrieves a water bottle,
wide-brimmed western hat, a light briefly
filled with what looks like oil, from a small
shines as her robotic eye adjusts to look
sack tied to her belt. She pours it onto the
at the damage to her partially functional,
rustier parts of her legs and rubs the oil in
jury-rigged prosthetic arm. She tries to
with the sleeve of her duster. Keeping the
make a fist with it but can only curl her
gun within the light of blistering sun, she
fingers well enough to grab at the grip of
walks around the east side of the building.
her gun. She covers the arm again with the
The yard at the back of the building is
sleeve of her duster.
surrounded by a low, crumbling stone
“Good enough,” she says as she checks
wall and erected atop of it, in the spaces
the battery on the gun’s readout. 47%—
where it is crumbled away, was a twisted,
only good enough for about nine shots.
dilapidated scrap metal fence.
She sighs and angles the solar panel toward the sun again.
She walks to the rickety metal gate and tugs on the handle but finds that it is barred from the other side. She peeks
She was a wild child, too. She was
through the small crack between the
always in trouble with someone, but even
door and the wall with her robotic eye.
as she got older, she still slept with this
After a few seconds of looking, she steps
raggedy stuffed dog, so I always saw her as
back and turns one of the dials on her
my sweet, little girl.”
prosthetic arm. She reaches for the door
11
12
MICROFICTION The Forge
Fall 2020
palm-first and when it is just a few inches
The woman looks up to the sun one more
from the door, it quickly jumps to it and
time and sighs.
sticks with a metallic clang. Across the door, she slides her hand to the right and
They used to say that the good die
there was a sound of a metal rod sliding
young. I believed it as fact and always
before it drops to the ground. She opens
thought it was a tragedy. In hindsight, I
the door and steps into the yard. She walks
probably would’ve preferred it that way.
through the piles of broken machinery and twitching robots while she eyes her
The woman has a look of
gun’s readout. 76% charged. That is better,
determination wash over her and she kicks
but not good enough. She stops at the
in the door to the building. Four people are
backdoor and stares.
waiting for her, all with their guns drawn. Three men, all in ragged leather and a
When the light came, most of the
red dog painted on their chests, crouched
people that were left went insane. They
behind makeshift barricades. The last
formed gangs. One such gang was the
person is a woman with tangled, chestnut
Blood Shepard Raiders. Many of them
hair and piercing green, wild eyes. She
were my neighbors once. The monsters
stands behind the men, pointing two old
took her. They took Carla from me. I’ve
revolvers at the woman. The faint scent of
tracked them from Ann Arbor to this
apple blossom wafts through the air.
shithole in what used to be Lansing, I think.
Her gun’s display lights up for a brief moment and lets out a high-pitched beep. 90% charged. That will have to do.
“Hello, Carla.”
The Forge
MICROFICTION
Fall 2020
THE RABBIT By: Arman Analouei
“I
t’s not as easy as you think,
about. It’s about creating what we in the
especially when your master is a
business like to call an “experience” for the
penniless fool who never learned true
audience. But to me, it’s just tricks after
magic, but I digress. Everybody wants
tricks. Hell, if I wasn’t snow white with
a show, everybody needs a show. You
a fluffy tail you could probably dress me
know that by now, right? Everyone craves
up in a clown suit and I’d be just as good,
something, anything, to take their minds
maybe even better. I’m rambling. The
off their lives. Something to plop their
show is about to begin. Before it we start,
kids off at for parties, something to look
you said you wanted to know how it all
forward to, something to get excited
goes down, right? Okay, here’s the whole Artwork by James Gray
13
14
MICROFICTION The Forge
Fall 2020
spectacle in a nutshell. The magician, who
the applause calmed down and the crowd
isn’t really a magician, more of a of a
began to gasp. The wand was now held
thief with a top hat, he pulls out a wand.
by the true magician and the towering
Again, not a real wand, just something
imposter started to descend down into the
that he picked up off the streets. He taps
hat. His eyes widened unimaginable shock,
it on his dinky hat three times and presto!
but his face remained still. The imposter
I’m just expected to just plop on out,
was finally being humiliated. The rabbit,
surrounding all the credit to that moron
the true magician, finally took his place.
with the ridiculous hat.
“I hope everyone is ready for something a
But this time—this time I have some
little bit different this evening.” Everyone
other plans. This time, I’m not coming out.
had seen a magician pulling a rabbit out of
This time, he’ll be the embarrassed one,
a hat, but that night I witnessed something
shaking up there, lost in front of all those
different, something better.
people. You ever read Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland? You ever wonder why the hare always had his pocket watch on him? It’s because he was just like me. He was always forced to keep his time in check, always prepping for the little trick. Not me though. This time, I’m going to get to be the real star of the show. Alright, show’s starting, get out of here kid, and hey, don’t forget to enjoy yourself.” The seats started to pack. I sat down. The curtains finally lowered and an ocean of applause flooded the auditorium. Soon
MICROFICTION The Forge
Fall 2020
FISHING By: Alex Wright
J
effrey walks through the front door,
room. The lamp on the end table seems
takes off his shoes, and sets down a
to follow him in his peripheral vision. He
couple bags of groceries he just picked
shoots a look at it and eyes it up and down.
up from the store. He opens the fridge
He walks over and caresses the ceramic
and starts putting things away. Sodas
base, then the lamp shade. No, that’s all
go in the fridge one by one. Then some
fine. Maybe his eyes are playing tricks on
frozen vegetables and ice cream in the
him.
freezer. Beans in the pantry. He takes out
He looks back at his ground beef,
the ground beef and holds it up, silently
which is probably getting warm by now,
debating whether he’ll put it in the fridge
especially since it’s so hot in here. Why is
or the freezer. He looks past the beef into
it so hot in here? He stares back into the
his living room and frowns. Something
kitchen and sees the air shift and flow as if
is off. He sets the cold meat down on the
he were looking through a fire. He walks
counter and walks over to the couch.
over to his thermostat, but it reads out a
He squeezes the leather on the couch
cool seventy-two degrees in here. Damn
and cocks his head. No, that’s not it. He
thing must be broken again. He looks up
looks at the recliner in the corner. It looks
toward the ceiling fan for some relief.
fine too. Something’s just not right. The
“What the hell?” he says.
coffee table has a bit more shine to it than
The ceiling fan doesn’t have a shadow.
usual. Oh wait—he dusted yesterday. He
In fact, nothing in here has a shadow.
walks around to the other side of the
Jeffery looks around the room in awe and
15
16
MICROFICTION The Forge
Fall 2020
then back to the fan. He looks closer and
outward and Jeffery is met with the sight
notices that it looks flat. It’s as if someone
of him. All around him. Thousands of
took a picture of it, made the print life-
him, hanging from a ceiling fan that really
size, and hung it from his ceiling. He walks
isn’t there. In a room that doesn’t exist.
closer to it, and it seems to jump into
The sight stretches on for miles in every
his perspective like a background image
direction. The only light shows from his
in an old laggy video game. He stands
own bodies until one by one, all around,
directly below it. The bottom of the chain
they are snuffed out. The vast space
dangling below the fan waiting to turn it
around him grows darker by the second.
on seems flat against the rest of it, but he
He stares up at the ceiling fan again. The
cautiously reaches for it anyway.
mahogany arms warp and wrap around
His fingers slowly caress the teardrop-
his trapped arm, and the three lightbulbs
shaped weight on the end, but like the
at the center shift into a single light with
pull chain, his fingers don’t seem to have
a dark spot at the center. It stares down at
any mass to them anymore. He winces
him, the dark spot growing larger as the
and pulls the chain. The room spins like
arms of the fan lose their wooden texture
a centrifuge, but the floor seems to stand
and warp tighter.
still. Jeffery fights back the urge to vomit
For a split second, he thinks the light
as he tries desperately to let go of the
looks like an eye with an iris as dark as the
chain, but the more he pulls, the more his
void around. The light snuffs out. He no
arm is engulfed in the two-dimensional
longer sees himself. he deafening silence
image before him. The walls fracture
is cut by a voice from every direction and
along concise, straight fissures, forming
nowhere.
thousands of squares with light showing through the cracks. In unison, all of the squares burst
“Ha. Caught one.”
The Forge
MICROFICTION
RETURN By: Joseph Mauceri
C
oming back is always the hardest
That’s how complete the healing is. It’s
part.
why I have to relearn everything. The
Air fills your lungs, and you have to
remember how to breathe. Your breaths aren’t breaths at first, they’re just gasps
only things that are my own are my soul and the clothes on my back. After a short while, I feel the dry
interspersed with coughs. You get hit
coarseness of desert sand on my back.
by all your bodily sensations at once. I
I sit up with extreme effort, hearing the
imagine it’s what being born feels like,
vertebrae in my spine crack into place.
except maybe even more intense.
It’s at this point that I realize I’m in my
After a while I started developing my own checklist, to make sure everything
underwear. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
is in order: Sight? Check. Touch? Check. Smell? Check. Taste? Check. Hearing? Check. Only then do I start to move. It’s not just being returned to my old body— I’m practically given a new one every time. Artwork by James Gray
Fall 2020
17
18
MICROFICTION The Forge
Fall 2020
LUCIEN THE LIONHEARTED By: Alex Wright
A
city marketplace bustles in the
of The Lionheart looks especially bleak
early afternoon sun. Dwarves
today. He pays this shadow no mind as the
peddle their steel and gnome’s show
wind shifts into a violent squall and he
off their mechanical creations for the
pulls a lever beside him. The sails curl in
crowds. Humans perform their play on a
response.
nearby stage and the elves practice their magic among the city towers. A large shadow moves across the sky, splitting
“Quell your rage!” he yells to no one in particular. The sails drop a minute later when the
the mundane blanket of light for only a
winds have calmed. The winds subside, but
moment. Few look up to the wooden haul
there is still much rage. Lucien sneers at
and canvas sails of the of the galley above
the bronze statuettes depicting dragons on
them. The Lionheart sails once more.
either side of him. You see, Lucien has lost
He stands at the helm looking ever onward to the horizon. He searches for
something dear to him. Something with which The Lionheart would not exist.
something, though none in the city below
“Malveyn!” He screams.
ask what, nor could they if they wanted
He sighs and looks back to the
to. No one else seems to be allowed
statuettes, desperate determination in
aboard. The captain bears the burden of
his eye. He scans the horizon once more
this ship alone. Yes, Captain Lucien sails
and spots a large winged creature to the
his ship daily and he sails it valiantly. Yet,
East. He takes out his spyglass and peers
despite the sun shining bright, the deck
through. A vulture. Captain Lucien throws
MICROFICTION The Forge
Fall 2020
his spyglass down and the glass breaks and to look upon the ocean in the distance. scatters as he cries out in anger.
The darkness extends past on either side
“Malveyn!” He screams again.
of the ship, as if it had wings. Lucien’s
But Malveyn won’t answer, for he has
anger boils over, as the gods are clearly
lost faith in his pupil. Malveyn gave the
tormenting him with the clouds above.
captain and his Lionheart the gift of flight.
The wind beats against the sails in a
For with all the dwarves’ steel, all the
rhythmic vengeance. Lucien looks back to
gnome’s machines, the humans’ intuition,
his wheel struggling to maintain control
and the elves’ magics, none in the city had
on its own and he stumbles to his feet. He
ever been able to create a ship capable of
takes the helm once more and pulls his
flight. Malveyn saw Lucien as an excellent
lever. He must sail higher, past the clouds.
example of decency in a city of arrogance
“You’re not getting me yet!” He laughs.
and greed. The ship was supposed to
But he is doomed. He will set sail daily
uphold his humility so that he may teach it
to find the one he once called friend. To
to others. The ship was supposed to allow
show him they are equals. But they are
Lucien to see the world from a different
not, as deep down, Lucien believes he owns
view, a different perspective, and show
the skies and none can sail higher. So, he
others as well. The ship was to bring out
never looks up. Which is why he will never
his kind greatness.
find his mentor, his teacher; Malveyn
But it only showed him his arrogance.
the dragon. For I have been casting the
Lucien scans the horizon again as he
shadow around him this entire time.
abandons the helm and drops his gaze over the rails to the mountains below. He notices the shadow extends past his ship. He runs to the other side of the ship and nearly flings himself over the railing
19
20
The Forge
MICROFICTION
Fall 2020
REAPER By: Joseph Mauceri
J
ohn ran into a room, shutting the door
could not have possibly been killed by a
behind him and locking the door. He
glowing, cloaked man. That was ludicrous.
dived over a nearby desk and hid behind
He was just dreaming. He was just going
it. He began panting and leaned against
to wake up in his bed any second now
the desk in the fetal position. His teeth
and everything would be fine. Or perhaps
began chattering and his heart rate
he was not dreaming, and they had
must have been at one million
been killed, but it was just
beats per minute. It was
your average, run-of-the-
only with the end of his
mill serial killer—not some
physical exertion that
supernatural creature. His
his heart finally
brain made things up to
began to
help him cope
calm itself,
with what he
but it redoubled
had just witnessed.
in speed as soon as
His maniacal
he remembered what had
laughter ceased once he heard
happened.
the familiar footsteps: loud clumping
Each breath was agony. He gripped
from boots accompanied by the scraping
his head as if he was trying to break the
of metal on the tile floor. John’s body
memory. Then, he began to laugh. He
instantly became drenched with sweat.
was losing it. His Sierra and his sister
His heart beat even faster than before. He
Artwork by Norbert Barrion
MICROFICTION The Forge
heard the doorknob twisting and shaking.
Fall 2020
Everything seemed to slow down.
He covered his mouth to keep himself
John knew immediately to run. He got
from screaming. The sound of glass
to his feet and sprinted towards a nearby
shattering rang throughout the room and
window. The desk he hid behind, now
there was the familiar click of an opening
being thrown away, no longer obstructed
door. At this point, John could not help
his pursuer’s path. This did not matter,
but cry. He stifled the sobs with his hands,
just as long as he could get to the window.
but the tears mixed in with his sweat and
He was inches away and John felt the cold
drenched the ground around him.
glass on his fingertips. He actually smiled.
The click of boots and the scrape of metal moved through the room. John did
Then, he was paralyzed. He felt something, more similar to
not dare to look for fear of him being
ice than flesh, grab onto the back of his
discovered. It seemed to meander about,
neck. He was frozen to such a degree that
periodically stopping to check behind the
he could not even replace his smile with
other desks in the room. As the shuffling
a more accurate look of abject terror. He
came closer to John’s hiding place, he
pulled away from the window and took a
could hear a strange noise akin to that of
few steps backwards. John felt strange, like
a vacuum and, just like a vacuum, he felt
he was no longer in control of his own
all the heat getting sucked out of his body
body.
and an unparalleled cold took hold of him. As he breathed, vapor came out from his nose and mouth. “It’s just a dream! It’s just
“Turn around.” The raspy voice of the inhuman creature forced John to face him. It was even more horrifying than the
a dream! It’s just a dream!” John shouted
glimpses he had seen when it killed Sierra
over and over again in his head. The sound
and his sister. He did not even know how
stopped right next to his hiding place. The
it was alive. Its entire body was completely
jig was up.
stripped of skin and muscle and, replacing
21
22
MICROFICTION The Forge
Fall 2020
both, was instead surrounded by an
certain locations but intensified in others,
electric blue shroud. In a poor attempt
with all the pain being moved to his
to cover its hideous body, it wore a black
stomach. Then, all at once, it subsided.
cloak, which was partially opened around
John had never been more shocked in
the chest to show its ribcage. It stared into
his life. Something, of the same shade of
his eyes with its own eye sockets.
blue as the creature that had assaulted him,
The creature brandished a large, metal
floated out of his stomach. It was wispy,
pole with a crescent blade attached to the
seemingly moving to a breeze that was not
end of it. It held the weapon aloft, using
there. Despite John’s utter confusion and
both hands in preparation for a mighty
lack of knowledge about what this thing
swing, as if it were using a baseball bat. “I
actually was, he knew he needed it. He
will see you on the other side.” Faster than
weakly reached out to it, wanting to shove
the eye could see, the blade slashed across
it back into his gut.
his stomach. “I’m dead,” thought John. Except he was not dead. As a matter
The creature suddenly grabbed onto the blue wisp and, at this, all of John’s pain
of fact, there was not even a scratch on
returned. He wailed in agony and recoiled
his body. It missed. He began to feel relief,
from the creature. That was it—the last
but immediately beat back the feeling. The
bit of distance needed to separate John
creature was still right in front of him, so
from this strange wisp. Once again, the
it could just try again.
pain subsided, but now, all of John’s other
An immense pain suddenly wracked
sensations had left him as well. A single
John’s body. Every inch of him felt as if
tear dropped from his eye and everything
it was on fire. Still unable to move, all he
went dark.
could do was cry, since his tear ducts and heart were not paralyzed by this creature’s magics. The pain started to subside in
MICROFICTION The Forge
Fall 2020
THE HUNTER By: Alex Wright
T
he tracker moves through the
ground and the heel is less distinct. The
underbrush, her bow slung over
tracker looks up. A tree about twenty feet
her shoulder. Her walk is brisk, and she’s
to west has large claw marks dug into it
crouched over, studying the ground as she
nearly seven feet from the ground. Several
goes. She pauses and pushes some leaves
branches have been broken off above that
and tall grass out of the way to reveal
and the claw marks are deep enough to
a three-toed claw print in the mud. The
cause the tree to lean near the top. The
hunter looks for-ward and notices a trail
crea-ture definitely jumped to it to try to
that’s pushed the grass to the side, making
get the drop on something. But what?
it easy to follow. She pulls on one of the
A rotten smell wafts through the air as
straps to her leather shoulder guard to
she moves closer to the tree. As the hunter
tighten it before moving forward.
leans up against the trunk, she can see the
The hunter follows the trail out of the
small clearing beyond it. About five feet
wetlands and into the forest beyond. It’s
away from the tree, much of the muck and
dim, and the trail is less apparent here so
rock has been disturbed and on the other
she focuses a bit harder. She notices the
side, near the edge of the clear-ing, a buck
silence, broken only by the light hand on
lays motionless and bloody. Her watch
her wristwatch. Tick, tick. One, two. The
ticks away in the still air. Tick, tick. One,
trail stops and she kneels next to the last
two. The tracker moves to the disturbed
set of prints. The toes are spread out more
mud and notices a substantial indent. She
and the tips of the claws are dug into the
spots something small and white laying
23
24
MICROFICTION
The Forge
Fall 2020
within, right next to a large rock. A fang.
massive eye tracks her movements ever
It must have broken off when the creature
so slight-ly. The hunter notches an arrow
missed its target. But where did it go?
and raises it toward the beast. Its pupil
The hunter looks back to the
narrows and its ears fold back against
carcass and scans the woods beyond. She
its head as it outstretches its neck, as if
spots a tree with claw marks moving up
to get a closer look. One, two. She taps
the trunk not far from the deer. Sensing
her sheathed dagger with her elbow
danger, the hunter moves back a few feet
to make sure it’s still there and
from where she found the fang and follows
glances toward the tree behind
the trail up the tree with her eyes and
her to remember where it is
spots something hanging upside down
just in case she needed a
from the branches above. It’s large, maybe
duck in cover.
six hundred pounds, with two muscular
The beast cocks
arms ending in four fingered claws, which
its head before it lets
grip the branch that supports it. The
go of the branch and
three-toed claws that make up its feet,
crashes back down to the
hang onto the branch like hooks. There’s
earth below it. She digs her
drool drip-ping from its canid-like snout
right heel into the dirt behind
and its one large yellow eye is staring
her, pulls back the drawstring on her
right at the tracker.
bow and takes a deep breath to
The tracker freezes. Her heart rate
try to steady her heart.
spikes, and she tries to control her breath
One. The beast
as she glares back at it and slowly takes
breaks into a
out her bow and a couple of arrows. She
four-legged
can still hear the ticking of her watch.
sprint and as it
One, two. One, two. The pupil of its
reaches the end of Artwork by James Gray
The Forge
MICROFICTION
Fall 2020
the clearing, the tracker lets her arrow
it sees is a silver point quickly grow in its
fly. Two. The target pre-sents itself as it
vision, until it couldn’t see anything else.
rears its head to look at her. The last thing
25
26
SHORT STORIES The Forge
Fall 2020
STRAIGHT OUTTA ROSWELL By: Eli Vandegrift
An alien invasion was prevented late last night after a UFO crash landed on a farm in Ohio. Thankfully, the invader was taken out by a government agent before it was able to attack a nearby civilian. “It was armed as it approached the civilian, but we took it out before it could attack,” Lt. Jones stated, “We’re just glad the situation was neutralized before it got worse.”
D
elilah awoke to a profound
to pieces with smoke rising from its remains.
crashing. She nearly jumped out
Lt. Jones approached the farm, and his
of bed from the shock of the noise. Her
grip on the wheel tightened. A ball of fear
ears rang and warm liquid dripped out of
tightened in the pit of his stomach, as if
her nose. When she touched her face, her
he was going into this alone, despite the
fingers came away red. Her heart pounded.
line of cars behind him. The government
She got up to check on the fields, fearing a
had been monitoring the UFO for months
fire or an ambush of wild dogs. Her family
as it came closer to Earth. The project
had owned these fields since before she
was called “Lone Wolf ”—the researchers
was born, and if anything happened to the
assumed that the small, singular ship
farm, their livelihood would be destroyed.
was piloted by a single organism or no
Her parents were out of town at her older
organism at all. It was kept top secret to
sister’s wedding, and they had left Delilah
prevent mass panic from exploding across
in charge for the first time in her 17-year-
the nation. The UFO’s trajectory had
old life. She looked out her window and
changed within the last few hours. They
saw, to her horror, what looked like a small
pinpointed its impact location weeks ago,
spaceship lying in a smoldering crater, torn
and it was going to land in a deserted area
SHORT STORIES
The Forge
Fall 2020
with no civilians in sight. However, the
to them, her parents would never let her be
trajectory changed last minute. Something
in charge of the farm again. They already
knocked the ship out of alignment, and
didn’t trust her, ever since she was 15
it was now headed for a populated area:
and stopped going to church with them.
a civilian farm field. While it wasn’t the
“Why would I go to a place that hates me?
original mission, Lt. Jones was still on
I kiss one girl and suddenly everyone is
assignment to neutralize the being. He
looking at me like I’m the devil,” she told
glanced at the picture on his dashboard of
them. This weekend was her last chance
his wife and their dog. His wife smiled at
to prove to them that she would be able to
the camera, her arms around the oversized
inherit the farm when she was old enough.
German Shepherd. His fear faded, and
She raised the shotgun to her shoulder
his grip on the wheel loosened, knowing
and kept walking. As Delilah reached the
he had to do this for them. His mind was
crest of the crater, she nearly vomited.
clear by the time the farm came into view.
The smell of burning material as well
Delilah stepped into the field with
as something else she couldn’t identify
her mother’s shotgun pointed in front of
overwhelmed her senses. Squinting into
her. Her hands shook but she crept nearer to the machine, knowing that she was the only one around for miles. I have to protect the cows, she thought. If something happened
Artwork by James Gray
27
28
The Forge SHORT STORIES
Fall 2020
the smoke, she saw a shape emerge,
the organization for good. We’ll never have
holding an object. She screamed at it:
enough to feed the baby coming. His hands
“This is private property! Get out or I’ll
shaking, Lt. Jones took aim and fired. The
shoot!” The figure stumbled and dragged
body of the alien jerked and shuddered
itself along the ground. Its body was
once before falling to the ground. The
unknown: gangly and strange, even the
civilian began screaming.
color unfamiliar. Large, thin appendages
They couldn’t breathe. There was a
protruded from its thorax reached out and
fire in their chest, a burning ache that
grabbed at the dirt as it attempted to pull
grew with each breath they took. They
itself up, only to fall back again. Delilah
cried out in pain when they realized one
gagged at the smell and sight of it. It
of their legs had been crushed underneath
made a sound like an animal dying, a soft
the side of the ship. Looking around, they
mewling and when it raised its head, the
tried to reach their Manipulator. They
eyes seemed almost bovine: a brown-like
pointed it at the part of the ship crushing
color with long lashes but streaming a
their leg and slowly, the material started
dark blue liquid. It whimpered again, and
shifting. They breathed a sigh of relief.
for a second, Delilah lowered her weapon.
In just a few minutes, I’ll be able to get loose
Out of the darkness, Lt. Jones led
and fix my ship. It’ll take a while but hopefully
his group toward the site of impact. He
the natives are kind enough to let me leave.
saw something come out of the ship, a
Just a few minutes, they thought, even as
hideous thing of unknown origin, holding
liquid dripped from their eyes and their
something in one of its limbs. A weapon?
equivalent of a heart started to fail. They
He thought, quickly raising his gun to his
clutched at an amulet around their neck.
shoulder. A civilian was also approaching
Just a few minutes and I’ll be free.
the thing, but she had stopped. If that thing kills a civilian, I’ll be terminated from
The Forge SHORT STORIES
Fall 2020
AN UNLIKELY ALLIANCE By: Victoria Mendoza
T
he building to Maeve’s left
fire, nerve endings raw and screaming?
explodes in a shower of dust and
That her body, for the first time since she
rubble. Hand pressed against her ribs, she
can remember, is drained of energy and
scrabbles backward with sides heaving and
battered?
heart pounding. A jolt of fire shoots up
Jaw clenched, Maeve looks toward
her calf and she gasps. Her head throbs
her leg, currently pinned beneath a piece
insistently and there is a dull, aching
of rubble. White tinged the edges of her
heaviness to her limbs. Her body, bereft
sight. By the gods, she knows for sure her
of the powers she’d been blessed with as
leg isn’t supposed to look like that and
a child, feels strange in a way that it is
she shouldn’t have been this hurt—or at
heavy and so damn unwieldy. Everything
all, for that matter. She shifts, trying to
hurts like she’s experiencing every injury
dislodge the chunk of rubble laying across
she should have had since she received the
the bottom half of her leg. A restless,
gift of invincibility. She looks at the small
anxious heat floods her stomach. She
tears in her uniform and the blood seeping
should be able to move the concrete block
through it. Vision swimming, she breathes
easily. Nothing is going as it should and
through how utterly wrong it is that she’s
her throat tightens at the complete loss of
in pain. The Myraxi, chosen enforcers
control.
to the crown and demigods blessed with
She takes a shuddering breath. Her
power, shouldn’t feel pain. What did it
hands grip the concrete tight enough to
mean now that her leg is currently on
whiten the knuckles. Taking a moment to
29
30
The Forge SHORT STORIES
gather the last dregs of her energy, she
Fall 2020
tempo.
nods once and heaves. The concrete lifts
For the first time, Maeve is afraid.
an inch and promptly crashes back down
A chunk of concrete, thrown by one
on her leg as her arms give out. A high
of her own, sails towards Maeve. She
whine escapes the back of her throat. She
tries to evade it, muscles straining to
wants to go back to this morning and bow
leap out of its way. Her mind races as it
out of the mission. She wants to throw the
once did, already ten steps ahead of her
concrete block currently trapping her off
body. It is only once she feels the warm
with one hand. She wants her power back.
liquid trickling down her jawbone that
Gods, does she want with a hollow, lonely
she realizes she is crying. She catches the
ache.
commanding vigilante’s horrified gaze. He
Forcing herself to take deep breaths, she studies the concrete slab. With
lunges towards her. www
scrabbling hands, she moves small chunks
Maeve swats at the hand in front of
of rubble out from under her leg. There’s
her, struggling to push herself up off the
enough room for her to wriggle free and
ground. Her jaw aches from clenching her
finally stand.
teeth and the clanging of dropped weights
The parking structure where her
does nothing to ease her headache. Ears
team, one of the elites in the Myraxi’s
still ringing, she squints to read what
ranks, ambushed the vigilantes is now
Mather, the owner of the hand, is trying
in ruins. Exposed wires spark furiously
to say. Sucking in air, she looks around
and rubble lies everywhere. Wildly, she
the room to orient herself and studies the
turns to search for the rest of her crew.
technique in which a recruit scales a wall
She lunges towards the sound of familiar
of ever-moving stones. The steady sound
maniacal laughter, but her leg twangs in
of her breath evening out settles her and
protest. Her heartbeat pounds a discordant
she relaxes her hands.
The Forge SHORT STORIES
Watching a new recruit tap out a
Fall 2020
“Are you? You dropped as soon as that
combo on a worn punching bag, she takes
weight hit the ground. I wouldn’t call that
a moment to loosen her shoulders and
fine, Maeve.”
steady her thoughts. Mather watches her
“Can we not do this? I’ve been talking
with furrowed eyebrows. She lifts her chin
to her—it’s gonna take time for me to
and meets his gaze, her eyes narrowing
bounce back, you know.”
into something that’s almost challenging.
“And that is perfectly fine, but as it
She folds downward to stretch out her
stands now, you won’t be doing the job
limbs, hands shaking as she reaches for her
tomorrow.”
toes. Mather sighs, glaring at her back. “I
Maeve’s head snaps up. She steps out
thought you said you were talking to the
of her lunge and moves towards Mather
doctor.” She blinks furiously, sucking in
in three fluid strides. Neck tense and eyes
more air. Refusing to meet his gaze, Maeve
narrowed, she snarls, “I. Am. Fine. My
lets the silence stretch on. He scrubs a
numbers are up, I haven’t had a nightmare
hand down his face and turns to watch two
in a week, and you said I could run this job
initiates sparring.
if¬—”
“It’s fine,” she said. “The dropped weights just startled me.” “Maeve, it’s not fine—you’re not fine.
“If you were fit for duty.” A vein throbbed in his temple and he straightens to his full height. “You dropping to the
And that’s alright, but we were sparring
ground in the middle of a fight is not fine,
today to make sure you were fit to run the
Maeve. I’m calling it. As of right now—”
next job.”
He raises his hand, silencing Maeve’s
“I am fit to run the next job.” Her voice is muffled by her knees. Lips pursed, she sinks into a lunge, and her eyes focus on the recruit at the punching bag.
protest. “As of right now, you won’t be running the job tomorrow.” Scoffing, she rakes a hand through her unkempt ponytail. “I mean—Gods, don’t
31
32
The Forge SHORT STORIES
Fall 2020
you need me tomorrow? Your guys are
only going to remind you once: you’re
going in to the Myraxi headquarters and
just a recruit here. And—if you haven’t
they need me to guide them.” She glares
noticed—there are a lot of ‘damned fools’
as an initiate falls while their partner
who lack powers but are doing just fine.”
stands triumphantly over them. “After all, who better to guide them than a former Myraxi acolyte?” Mather’s gaze jumps to the fresh scars
He scrubs a hand over his face. “I won’t speak of it again.” Seething, Maeve storms out of the gym. She walks to her room as her
across her cheekbones, which appeared
mind sifts through plots, blueprints,
on the day she woke up to a powerless
and contingency plans. Her rucksack is
body. She cut through her honor marks
packed before she knows it, filled with
as soon as she’d realized that the lords of
extra knives and shield grenades. She only
Myraxi had abandoned her. Eyes just a bit
hesitates for a moment before she adds her
wide, Mather looks back to her with
Myraxi grade gun—deadly enough to kill
slumped shoulders.
a god—to the bag. Since the lieutenants
“I know what you’ve sacrificed, Maeve,
of the Myraxi fleet had plucked her from
but that doesn’t mean you can’t take time
her planet and dropped weapons in her
to heal before you can run a job. You can
tiny, trembling palms, she hadn’t let go
still help us in other ways, if—”
of them. When her planet was lost to
“How, Mather? How can I help you all
the hunger of war and when she’d lost
when I’m just some damned fool who’s lost the only family she’d had in the Myraxi, their powers? I’m learning this from the
she’d held firm to her weapons—her only
ground up and I can’t manage to do it fast
constant companions.
enough—”
“That is enough.” Maeve flinches
back from the iron in his voice. “I’m
www Maeve turns, locking the bedroom door and barring it with a chair. Sweeping
The Forge SHORT STORIES
Fall 2020
the room for new microphones and heat
She reaches to grasp it again with a slow
sensors, she slowly moves towards the
hand. The blade’s runes, singing with an
sparse bed. Dropping to her stomach,
energy field, flare to life—something that
she reaches beneath the bed and pries
shouldn’t be possible in her powerless,
a floorboard loose, scrabbling for the
mundane state.
short sword inside. She rolls to a sitting
A wild, disbelieving grin splits
position, the sword cradled in her lap. As
Maeve’s face as she stands, attaching the
she unsheathes the blade, runes running
scabbard to her back. Sheathing the blade,
up both sides start to glow. Eyes widening,
she slings on her bag and, doing one
she releases the blade and the runes cool
last sweep across the room, slips out the
to a dark gray, offset against the blade.
window.
Artwork by Norbert Barrion
33
34
SHORT STORIES The Forge
Fall 2020
LOUP GAROU By: Victoria Mendoza
N
ew Orleans at night has a
the one going on across the gate. Two
breathless kind of magic. A buzz
cats, opposite in looks and disposition,
of anticipation floats through the French
chase each other through the front lawn.
Corner as costumed revelers, in varying
Weaving through the front lawn and
stages of inebriation, traipse between the
leaping towards the occasional firefly,
streets. Mama Leveaux’s, an establishment
these cats—one a subtle blend of grays
that has worn many hats over the years,
and black, the other bone-white—have an
glows with an ethereal warmth. The lace
unnervingly human way about them. This
ironwork wrapping around the balcony
can be said of the other creatures roaming
twinkles with string lights looking, for all
Mama Leveaux’s premises. The crows,
the world, like vines full of the fair folk.
chittering in irritation, wrestle over a
The gate lies open, lit lanterns
bottle of rum left abandoned on the porch.
hanging from its posts, beckoning like
The fox watches on, feral grin spreading
an eager lover. The front lawn fills
across its maw.
with various creatures trickling in from
A beam of soft golden light spills out
through the gate, looking for all the world
across the front walkway. The silhouette
like partygoers entering a masquerade.
of a hooded figure makes the cats stumble
One rooster, twin crows, an uncomfortably
in the middle of their odd waltz. A voice
large snake, and something that was
calls out in warning, echoing from behind
almost a fox—all romping through
the figure on the porch. The not-quite-a-
the lawn in a celebration that mirrors
fox cocks its head, stepping towards the
SHORT STORIES The Forge
Fall 2020
smooth, low voice. A wink of light flashes
opportunist—smirked and offered to
across its gaze, two eyes glowing molten
“clean him up”. Thus, two became one
silver. Turning towards the doorway,
as Kai slunk away from the beginning
the crimson hood slips down, revealing a
of a one-night-stand. Buzzing with the
tousled bob and sharp, elfin cheekbones.
freedom of turning 21, she had jumped at
The figure, a girl of twenty odd years if
the chance to explore the nightlife.
anyone asks, extends her arm as she calls
Fidgeting with her ridiculously itchy
back in a clear, lilting voice. One of the
angel wings, she looks around the dingy
crows, with a single milk-white eye, flies to
bar. A riotous roar fills the bar, and she
perch gently on her outstretched arm. As
regrets, not for the first time, ignoring
she sets off, yellowed eyes glinting in the
the promise she’d made to her mom about
lamplight, she daintily places the crow on
using the buddy system when going out.
her shoulder and lifts her hood once more.
Frowning, she studies the crowded bar,
www
and wonders how the hell she could feel
Halloween on this side of the bayou
so lonely in a place like this. Neon signs
is a time of transformations and gluttony.
lining the black walls bathe the room in
No matter how mild mannered or angelic
muted tones of blues and reds. She sighs
one tries to be, on this night everyone is a
and makes the mistake of leaning an elbow
bit beastly. The longer the night wears on,
on the sticky bar top behind her.
the more animalistic the celebratory howls
The bartender, cloaked in an air of
become, as strides lengthen into prowling
disenchanted exhaustion, bares her teeth
movements.
in an almost-smile at the handsy mad
Kai hadn’t planned to ditch her
scientist next to Kai. Jostling her out of
roommate three hurricanes in. She’d
the way, he leans on the bar, mouth twisted
spilled her drink on a handsome
in a predatory grin. Kai glares down at her
vampire, and her roommate—ever the
half-empty cup, dark brows knitted and
35
36
The Forge SHORT STORIES
Fall 2020
mouth flattening. The worst part—worse,
grimaces down at her only pair of nice
even, than her painfully obvious lack of
shoes, now stained with the blood-like
allure—is that without her werewolf of
remnants of her drink. Rolling her head
a roommate, absolutely no one knows
back, she squints up toward the star-
what her costume is. She’s just some girl
dotted sky.
shivering in a minidress and a cheap red cape. Another roar from the crowd, presumably in appreciation for the godawful caterwauling at the karaoke stage. Her elbow is jostled once more by the
She’s so focused on looking for Orion that she doesn’t notice the man behind her, loping for all the world as if he were more wolf than man. www Lamplight spills out on the street
wannabe Frankenstein and she stumbles
ahead of her. She grins, slow and sweet
over her pleather heels, spilling half her
and a bit drunk. Toeing her heels off, she
drink in the process. Clicking her tongue,
lines them neatly against the curb and
she turns from the sympathetic bartender
leaps towards the puddles of light leading
to survey the damage. At the sight of the
towards Tremé, where she will surely find
sticky red liquid dripping down the front
her warm apartment and, if she’s lucky, a
of her dress, she huffs and downs the
nice large slice of pizza. She tilts her head,
rest of her overpriced drink. The cloying
and blinks hard twice. The world swims in
smell of artificial fruit invading her nose,
the way that it does when one finally starts
she shoves through the crowd towards
to feel the effects of the alcohol they’ve
the cooling night air. The overwhelming
ingested. She stops walking, swaying and
noise of the bar becomes muffled behind
movements a bit too erratic for someone
her. The streets are less crowded now,
who’s only had four drinks. Her mother’s
everyone populating the handful of
voice floats through her mind, reminding
bars scattered throughout the town. She
her to mind her drinks when she’s out. She
The Forge SHORT STORIES
Fall 2020
shuffles towards the wrought-iron gates
furiously, she turns to where she hopes the
of the cemetery. There’s a shortcut that
path to her apartment is.
leads directly to her street that she saved
Rieka leans against a weeping angel
for times like these. Behind her, almost
and studies the inebriated girl. Bare feet,
imperceptibly, a twig snaps.
wide, unfocused eyes, and shoddy balance.
www
Kai trips over an offering, muttering.
Rieka stalks behind the wolf man,
The perfect prey, what with her guileless
crimson cloak hiding the twin daggers
expression and trusting demeanor. Rieka
hanging from her hips. Very rarely does
moves closer to Kai, scenting the pungent
she find the need to use them, but she
waft of alcohol coming from the girl in
prefers to err on the side of caution. The
front of her. Rieka scans the surrounding
thick grass of the cemetery muffles her
graves, trying to pick out where her
footsteps, and heat flows liquid through
quarry is hiding.
her limbs. She grins, a feral, calculating thing, and traces the runes on her blades.
Kai stumbles, the world losing focus for one terrifying second. Breath
Kai, for all her academic prowess,
stuttering, she lists to her left towards a
takes far too long to register the steady,
bench. A pair of wiry arms wrap around
unhurried steps behind her. Fear cushioned
her shoulder. Her breath catches, face mere
by the pleasant warmth of liquid sloshing
centimeters from cracking against the
around her stomach, she twirls to face an
bench’s iron arms. A noise freezes in the
empty pathway leading back towards the
back of her throat, and the man shushes
bar, aptly named The Den. She tilts her
gently, a half-done attempt to comfort her.
head and squints at the space where she
Blinking blearily towards what looks
swore a man should have been. Raking a
like a face, Kai wills herself to focus and
hand through her hair, she wavers as the
prays that the alcohol just leaves her body.
gravestones all blur together. Blinking
Muttering a thanks, she makes an
37
38
The Forge SHORT STORIES
awkward attempt to flee, forgetting
stomach turns and a mixture of alcohol
the hand still gripping her shoulder. It
and bile hits the back of her tongue.
tightens, sharp nails digging into her skin.
She swallows, and says, “I’m meeting
She looks down towards it, surprised, and
my brother. He should be here any
her eyes trace a path towards the hand’s
moment.”
owner. Dark hair over weathered skin. An unsettling gaze levels on her and she is
Fall 2020
A chuckle, dry and taunting. “Will he, now?” He traces her cheekbone with a sharp
forced to meet it. “What are you doing, all by yourself?” he purrs, a strange accent making the question hard for Kai to understand. Some latent instinct, left over from the
nail, leaning towards her ear. “Don’t lie to me, girl.” “It’s true—” her voice breaks into a yelp as he nips her ear, drawing blood.
era of caveman, screams at her to lie. Mind
“Please, who are you?” He tilts her chin
spinning to craft something far too clever, she
back and noses the column of her throat.
peers towards his protruding canines.
She prays for the first time in ten years,
She wants to say the thing about teeth and their size. His grin widens, a hungry, wanting thing.
eyes burning. “I’m just a man—truly—just a simple man that is simply,” his voice tapers into a
Rieka pushes away from the grave, crow circling above her and one hand
leering, crooning thing, “ravenous.” His claws tighten around the delicate
weaving bitter smoke through the air. An
skin of her throat. A line of blood burns
answering grin, just as sharp and just as
down towards her clavicle. She squeezes
deadly, spreads across her face.
her eyes shut. A rough, leathery tongue
www “Are you alone, my dear?” a furry pointed ear twitches, excited. Kai’s
laps up the side of her neck and she realizes that she is well and truly alone. As his saliva mingles with her blood,
The Forge SHORT STORIES
Fall 2020
her eyes flutter open and she takes in the beauty of the night sky. On a shaky inhale, she starts to recite her death rites. “Mother, bless me. Mother, guide me to the next life. Let my body nourish this earth and let my soul break these bonds—” a rough hand, more wolf than man’s, squeezes her jaw, muffling her voice. “May these bones give power to these spirits, may this blood be a balm to their aching souls.” She meets his gaze, controlled fury burning through her. “May this body awaken their thirst. Mother, avenge me.” His eyes widen as her voice reverberates across the graveyard, stones rattling. Hand tightening, he squeezes her jaw. A crack ricochets, the noise bouncing off the gravestones.
if the graveyard were holding its breath. The wolf man shakes his head, doglike, and grins back—a manic mimicry of her own grin. At the slick blood coating his hand, he throws his head back into a victorious howl. Three feet away, Rieka grins and howls back, mocking him.
Behind a monolith, Rieka bares her teeth and slices her palm. Blood wetting the runes on her blade, she says her own prayer and takes aim.
Kai sees the moment fear, true and overwhelming, enters the creature’s eyes. She chuckles wetly, vindictively. Neither of them sees the dagger arcing through
Kai holds the man’s lupine gaze, breath ragged. Slowly—so slowly—she bares her teeth into a feral, bloodied grin. There is
the night air until it is embedded in the man’s throat. A gasp—from who, Kai isn’t sure. She tilts her head and, raising
silence apart from her furious breathing, as Artwork by Norbert Barrion
39
40
The Forge
SHORT STORIES
a shaking hand, touches the dagger protruding from the man’s throat. Murmured words, too low to make out, wrap around the pair. Kai blinks, eyelids slow and heavy, and eyes the woman manipulating shadows behind her wouldbe murderer. She sways, and blinks again as the wolf-man shrinks into a wolf, a rope of liquid moonlight tightening around his throat.
Fall 2020
The Forge
SHORT STORIES
Fall 2020
ADRIFT ALONE By: Joseph Mauceri
D
ax was on high alert as he
look behind him for he knew that if he did,
rummaged through the pantry in
they’d catch him. He was at a full sprint
the kitchen.
the whole time, the adrenaline pumping
“Come on, come on…” he mumbled to
through his body being the only thing
himself. He felt his hand touch something
keeping him alive. He finally reached a
smooth and heard it crinkle under
door and took out a keycard, swiping it
his touch. He pulled it out—a bag of chips. “I guess this is good enough.” He threw it
through the door’s card reader. The door beeped and a red light briefly blinked on then off. “Come on!” He swiped one
into his knapsack just
more time. The light was green, and he
as he heard a roar.
heard the familiar unlocking of tumblers.
“Time to go.”
The door slid open and he ran through,
He sprinted out of the room,
quickly inputting the lockdown code on the door. It closed just in time. He heard
hearing the
the beasts clawing and slamming at the
clickety clack of
door. This was always the scariest part.
the beasts’ claws chasing after him. He ran
The knocking continued for a full minute. His heartrate didn’t decrease until the
as fast as he could, but
knocking ceased and the clacking of the
he knew they were
beasts’ claws headed away from the door.
faster. He didn’t
“One of these days, those things are
take a second to
gonna kill me.” Dax got back to his feet,
Artwork by Norbert Barrion
41
42
The Forge SHORT STORIES
Fall 2020
walking over to the empty chair at the
distress signal had really gone out, help
front of the room. “Evening, cap,” he said
from the nearest star system would have
to the skeleton in the seat next to him. He
arrived three weeks ago.
pressed a button on his dashboard and the
Dax laid back in his chair and as he
sun shields went up. He stared out into
finished the can of beans, he reached over
the abyss of space, sighing as the serenity
to the bag of chips, ripping it open. “You
calmed his battered nerves. He always
want one?” he joked, dangling a chip near
felt calmer in space. So, of course, he was
the dead captain’s skeleton. “Yeah, that’s
going to die in space.
what I thought.” Dax laid the chip into the
He emptied his knapsack onto his dashboard, sighing as he looked at his small haul. This was the last of the food
skeleton’s mouth. One chip wasn’t going to make a difference anyways. After about half an hour, he finished
on the entire ship: a can of beans, two
his meal, washing it all down with a
military rations, a bottle of water, and a
bottle of water. The calories he ingested
bag of chips. “A meal fit for a king,” Dax
in such a short period of time made him
mused. He reached into his pocket, taking
feel lethargic. “Hey, cap,” Dax said to the
out his switchblade, and cut into the can
skeleton, “What would you do if you
of beans. He hated beans, but beggars
were in a situation like mine?” He feigned
can’t be choosers. Picking up the spoon
attentiveness. A fake conversation would
on his dashboard, he began shoveling the
help justify the decision he came to.
beans into his mouth. What they said was
“Yeah…” Dax began, “I agree.
true: hunger does make things taste better.
Starving to death is a lot more painful.
Dax’s eyes drifted up to stare out into
You just waste away. I’d rather become the
space. Despite the numerous stars that
skeleton after I die, not before.” He took
lit up the endless black, not a single one
out his sidearm—a small energy pistol.
would be sending help for him. If their
He’d never fired it before, at least not at a
The Forge SHORT STORIES
living creature, so it felt unfamiliar in his hands. He’d never even shot at the beasts
Fall 2020
the beasts take it for him. Suddenly, he heard static. He ran back
outside. He’d seen people try to fight them
over to his console, pressing buttons,
off before, but it never ended well. “It
turning knobs, and doing everything in his
wasn’t the ideal last meal, but I guess it
power to clear it up. “This is… U.S.S.…
was alright.” He pointed the barrel at his
checking for survivors. Over.” He looked
temple. He’d never had a gun pointed at
out his viewport and saw a large military
him before either.
vessel—the perfect ship to rescue him.
Dax’s breaths became heavy and laborious. Sweat dripped down his temple. This is what he wanted, wasn’t it? What
Dax was so shocked and happy he almost forgot to respond. He pressed a button on his console.
he had been planning for? Dax let out
“This is First Officer Dax Richards of the
a primal shout, pressing down on the
U.S.S. Fahrenheit. I am the last surviving
trigger. The sound of an energy blast
crew member. Please send help. Over.”
rang through the cockpit. Dax was completely motionless, shell-
“Roger that, Richards. We’ll make sure to bring you home.”
shocked. He turned his head, as little as
His heart flew and he began to laugh.
he could, to his gun lain on the ground,
“I’m going home!” he shouted in his head.
which pointed towards the now destroyed
A growl interrupted his excitement.
locking panel. The door keeping him
He turned around, remembering the
separated from the monsters aboard his
now open door. He was not saved yet. He
ship was now gone. Dax started to chuckle
readied his pistol, pointing it at the door.
to himself. Then, the chuckle turned into
He wasn’t ready to die yet. The only thing
a hysterical laugh. “Well, I guess this is
he could think of now was his survival.
what I wanted after all.” He didn’t have the
Who would get to him first? His rescuers
nerve to take his own life, so he’d just let
or the beasts?
43
44
POETRY The Forge
THE KINDLY ONE By: Julie Tran
A robed figure weaves with her fingers, Quick and nimble are her bones. Her needle composes flaxen cloth, Woven and stitched upon stone.
Past, present, and future, she believed in An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. She is the spinstress of retribution And the hidden emissary of truth.
Singling out a strand of golden thread Laced with misfortune and destruction From her spindle, patterns of tragedy Made without justice’s obstruction.
Sewing to a symphony of agony, Her lips humming softly to the haunting hymn, Silken lines, like harp strings, are struck By her cold hands plucking a melody grim.
Entwined in a net of dreams and nightmares,
Fall 2020
POETRY The Forge
Her needle weaves forth in a winding haze. At a strand of gold in the tapestry, Her unwavering eyes remain to gaze.
Her heavy and dark stare pierces a hole In the boundless, infinite loom. Intricate patterns, a sight to behold, But they tell of an impending doom.
Through the eye of the sharp needle, The golden thread starts to shorten At the taunting pull of life’s end— The silver point, now uncertain.
Against vengeful judgement and instinct, she continues To weave the seamless tapestry resting atop stone. Hidden in her cloak, she pulls out a bright crimson thread, Filled with a punishing guilt that needs to be atoned.
Tied between her fingers, the arterial string Ruptures, like ligament torn from bone. Her fine needlework, now cut and forever torn— Eumenides, a seamstress unsewn
Fall 2020
45
46
The Forge Poetry
Spring 2019
POETRY The Forge
Fall 2020
OPHELIA By: Julie Tran
The day is crisp and fair with the fragrance of fennel and violets in the air. The sunlight pours into pools and puddles of bluish white. It cuts the water, like cleaves in a jewel, cracking into bright light. Pretty petals from columbines and rue lull upon the glassy surface. Speckled serpentine and golden hair reflect in the deep green hue, while gerbera daisies are plucked with a lover’s purpose. She lies back and laughs at the answer, letting the sunkissed water flow over her as the sky becomes a teary blur. This wretched day is almost too much to bear, but it is not like the rest of the world would care. Her smile is barely afloat in the rippling flood. Its warmth fills her throat and her white dress drips with mud. The willow tree hangs aslant the weeping brook, if only to see the newly nymph it took. Her melodious chants and afflicted thoughts soften. She turns to favor, to prettiness, and to hidden passions, often. Bedecked with wild flowers and scattered weeds, the soothing stream soon recedes. The sky is blue and bare. A sweet Robin sings into the cold air: “A’down, a’down she goes! Under the clear spring water. A’drown, a’drown she’ll be found! Her heart asunder, but obedient daughter.” Artwork by Donna Tran
47
48
POETRY The Forge
A LIST OF SICKLY HORSES AND HOW TO IDENTIFY THEIR AILMENTS By: Julie Tran
I. White Horse He who sits upon this carries a bow and a victor’s crown, Through his brass quiver, lurid venom and poison enters. Conquest after conquest, his pestilent arrows rain down, Despite the wave of his ivory cape, he never surrenders. With his arrival, hope and health will cease, For the silver ranger brings with him disease.
II. Red Horse He who sits upon this has fiery and maniacal eyes, His sword raised upwards for a declaration of battle. The trumpet sounds, oncoming screams and cries, A mass slaughter with men executed like cattle. Trampling over the cruel carnage and bloody gore, The crimson knight ushers in the drums of war.
Fall 2020
The Forge
POETRY
III. Black Horse He who sits upon this has a pair of balancing scales in hand, Oil and wine for the rich, wheat and barley for the beggar’s coin. Dry wells and rivers, fallen livestock and shriveled land, After the starving onslaught, to the underworld they will join. To those impoverished souls he will examine, The obsidian usurer grants all with famine.
IV. Pallid Horse He who sits upon this has hollow eyes and ashen skin, Cropping the masses with a sickle mingled with myrrh. Tick tock, tick tock, the corpse harvest will now begin, Strewn along the lifeless path, not one body can stir. For the unmoving in ill pallor and silent breath, The stygian reaper guides all to eternal death.
Artwork by Dona Tran
Fall 2020
49
ART COLORING PAGE Tipheron. the Old King of Ysmoria, by James Gray
The Forge Roars...
F
rom the starry cosmos, to the fields of magical lands, The Forge Literary Magazine contains all aspects of adventure, emotion, and mystery within the genres of Science-Fiction and Fantasy.
In this collection of microfiction, short stories, and poetry
created by writers at George Mason University, readers can expect to delve into lush, awe-inspiring worlds across all ages of time. The Forge offers a full experience for all lovers of ScienceFiction and Fantasy literature, offering a lovely pair of superb writing with wonderful world-building. It is the goal of The Forge to give writers, readers, editors, and artists who have fallen in love with Science-Fiction and Fantasy a platform to express their passion for these two genres. With each flip of a page, this collection seeks to serve as an escape from all things grounded by our world with powerful prose littered throughout. If you have any inquiries or want to submit to our magazine, send an email to:
theforgegmu@gmail.com
Thanks for reading!
