On TV There Are Two Women Kissing

poetry by Elodie Townsend

There’s a girl in the back garden and she’s burying plastic dinosaurs.

Damn the weatherman and his dark clouds! Inside the house, you’re banging fists on the coffee table and making grief sounds like car alarms in an empty parking garage or the pounding of a well-oiled mitt, with the open-mouth moan of the freeway behind.

The girl in the garden is getting mud on her jeans.

You find your heartache in the small things— The machete-path through the weeds on the way up to the water towers, the rusty ladder on the roof of the abandoned church that Massachusetts winter.

The waiting room to heaven is a wood-shingled house with a short-sloped drive, and you’re standing on the concrete porch, in your flip-flops, waiting.

On TV, there are two women kissing, and the girl in the garden has finished digging.

Andres Had Always Wanted a Dog

cross-genre literature by Daniel Gonzalez

Andres had always wanted a dog. That’s what he told the 7th grade class on his first day at Los Cielos K-12 school. His teacher told them to give him a warm welcome, but they just stared at him as if they knew something he didn’t. He would stand alone in the corner of the hot concrete quad and pick out the weird smelling deli meat from his free cafeteria lunch. He felt the scrutinizing eyes of his classmates on him and heard whispers of how long they thought he would last. He didn’t know what they meant by that, but it wasn’t his first time at a new school, and he knew how cruel other kids could be.

The whole town of Los Cielos treated him that way. After school and on weekends he would ride his bike around town to explore but everything he found quickly disappointed him. On the westside of town there was a dingy diner that was infested with flies and served only rare steaks. Even if he had the money, he wouldn’t eat anything from there. In the middle of the town, next to the abandoned church, there was a library on wheels that had only banned horror comics, cookbooks with outdated fad diets, and a 26 volume Compendium of the History of the Morlocks. From the corners of his eyes, he thought a small brown body was following him as he’d circle the border of Los Cielos, but when he’d turn to look it was gone. He pedaled past the empty and cobwebbed storefronts on main street where the old folks would look at him with suspicion and paranoia and ask him what his business was.

The Martinez family told the townsfolk of Los Cielos that they had moved there for work, but Andres knew his father was an unemployable drunk. They had moved to Los Cielos because it was far enough to avoid the loan sharks his father owed. It was his mother who supported the family by working graveyard at Ace Meats, the town’s slaughterhouse, and largest employer who outsourced their meat products around the globe. Which Andres thought was weird and impossible because from all the times he rode his bike around he never once saw a pig or cattle farm in town.

It was a strange town at the edge of the Central Valley, resting in the shadow of the Tehachapi Mountains. His mother had to use a printed map from 1986 to find it because it was unsearchable on the GPS. And for some bizarre reason the night sky arrived at Los Cielos two hours before it did anywhere else in the Pacific Time Zone. The town had no cell service, internet, or radio, which would make it easy for them to disappear, his father said.

His father drank and waited for his disability checks, but for some reason the mail never arrived, or for anyone in town for that matter.

After two weeks, his father grew impatient and dragged Andres to the post office to translate before closing. But they found the building empty. It was unlocked but looked like it hadn’t been used in decades. They could hear a conveyor belt in the back, but there were no packages or workers there to sort them. The P.O. boxes had been smashed open with a sledgehammer which someone had left behind. Except for one box in the middle that was black and scorched as if it had been blown open with dynamite. Inside the lobby, stamps of Ronald Reagan and the ‘84 Olympics covered the walls. They formed a mosaic on one wall, spelling out a message: “Gone Postal”.

Andres followed his frustrated father outside, whereby common occurrence in Los Cielos it had already become nighttime.

“¡Son chingaderas!”

“Maybe you can ask for it to get delivered to the next town over, or we could just move back to another place?”

His father slapped him in the face to shut him up. Andres pressed his lips tightly to hold in the pain. He felt a welt swell and would have to say that he fell off his bike again at school the next day.

His father looked around the street as if his check was to magically appear. But the only thing nearby was a liquor store and a telephone pole. His father walked toward the store and Andres followed.

“

Quédate aquí.”

Andres watched as his father stumbled into the store. He sat outside and waited. The liquor store’s neon lights illuminated his back and the telephone pole by him. He looked over at it and saw that the wood was covered with faded and torn missing posters. He stood up and walked to the pole to inspect them. He hadn’t been living in Los Cielos long, but he rode his bike around town a lot and figured maybe he’d seen one of them. Most of the posters were pets: cats, birds, reptiles, and dogs. But there were a few seniors and children stapled up, Andres shivered. He looked for a poster that wasn ’t as tattered, hoping the more recent it was the better the possibility they were to be found. And maybe there was a reward, which could help out his family. He circled the pole.

“¿Que haces?” His father’s breath reeked behind him. He was holding an opened 40 oz. bottle.

“Nada, just reading these posters apá, look they’re—"

“¿Y que tal ese perro?”

“Which one are you talking about?” Andres turned to the pole, but his father thrusted his angry finger the opposite direction. He turned to see what he pointed to and saw two large, gold luminescent eyes studying them from 10-feet away. They belonged to a brown pit bull sitting on the street, its ears perked up and tail still.

Was this what was following me around town? he thought. He took a step closer and whistled.

“Hey chucho, it’s ok.” The pit bull tilted its block head to the right. It appeared to smile at Andres. He got a better look at the dog and saw that it was a female. She also didn’t wear a collar.

“No lo llames, pendejo.” Andres’ father smacked him hard on the shoulder and felt it begin to swell and bruise. Andres had always wanted a dog, but his father never allowed them. The dog tilted her block head to the left and began to snarl. His dad got scared and pulled him back.

“Vamanos.”

“Wait! Maybe it’s one of the missing dogs! We can get money for returning her!” Andres only had to mention money to make his father stop and listen. His father waited by his side as he surveyed each poster on the pole. The pit bull stood up and grinned; the moonlight reflected off her teeth. Andres’ father began to sweat.

“¡Apúrate!” He rushed, but Andres couldn’t find a poster with the pit bull. The dog took one step forward. His father stepped back. Andres began to rip off posters in frustration and discovered that there were more posters underneath. Dozens of strays stapled on top of one another, unwilling to share space or to be found.

Finally, he caught a glimpse of the dog’s silhouette on a poster. It was stapled directly to the wood, underneath layers of others. Possibly one of the first missing cases. Andres stared at the brittle and discolored sheet of paper.

SLIPPED HER COLLAR, NO TAGS

LAST SEEN MON 11/01/1979

IF FOUND PLEASE CONTACT:

(209) 555-

The rest of the phone number had faded into obscurity. He looked at the dog then back at the poster. They looked exactly the same.

“But that can’t be right. That’s way too many years. She’d be…”

The dog sat her muscular body on the asphalt, took in a hollow breath, and released a deep howl. Andres felt as if she was trying to communicate with him and inched closer with his hand out, but his father grew scared and impatient. He downed the whole 40 oz. then threw the empty bottle at the dog. It missed by a couple feet and shattered on the street.

“¡Córrele!” His father shouted and bolted home without looking back for his son. She finished howling. Only broken glass separated Andres and the dog. All he had to do was walk over the shards and grab her short stocky frame and she would be his, but there was something disturbing about the way she had intimidated his father.

Andres did not move. The pit bull stared at him a moment longer, yawned, then turned away and left. Andres watched as she treaded towards the Tehachapi Mountains. Once she was out of sight, he walked home.

Andres arrived to his father passed out on the couch and a cold T-bone steak in the microwave. His mother received free meat working for Ace, which was a deciding factor for her taking the late-night job. But he thought their beef tasted and smelled unnatural and left it. He sighed and wished his mother was around more. He missed her homecooked meals, but her new job consumed all of her time.

He snuck around his father to his bedroom and turned off the lights. He laid on his lumpy mattress on the floor and stared out his window. The moon glistened and shone like the pit bull’s saliva on her fangs. He wished the dog would have bitten his father. All the years his father had hurt him, not once had he ever felt it reciprocated. He closed his eyes and smiled as the thought crept into his dreams.

He dreamt of walking the dog through the fields of Los Cielos. Or rather, the dog was walking him, looking back to make sure Andres was following. The dog stopped suddenly at the foot of the Tehachapi Mountains, and other animals crawled out of the thick bushes with large glowing eyes. There were other dogs, cats, goats, cows, sheep, pigs, and lizards. Even a few birds hopped out of their nest hidden within the foliage to greet them. Andres was taken aback, but the pit bull pressed her cold wet nose on his hand and nudged him forward. The animals crooned in unison, and Andres wasn’t afraid anymore.

Suddenly, he heard dozens of footsteps descend down the mountain. When the sound got near, he expected to see more animals but instead found that the footsteps belonged to several humans, also with large glowing eyes. The oldest of them, stepped toward him. He was a native man, covered in ancient shaman garb. He was covered in regalia that resembled an amalgamation of all of the animals at his foot, and a feathered headdress with horns. He walked up calmly to Andres with steps that sounded like hooves on gravel and inspected him.

Andres stood still. The shaman touched the welt on Andres’ face and his eyes flashed like tiny solar eclipses on the hottest summer day in Los Cielos. The shaman removed his hand and turned to his tribe of creatures and humans.

“We have found another lost soul. Bring him. He must be saved.”

The dog jumped up and placed her paws on Andres’ chest and licked his face. . . . . . .

Andres woke in the middle of the night to a low whine outside his window. It was still dark out and sounded nothing like his mother coming home from work.

He was afraid to get up and look, but something inside of him told him to. He peered over the windowsill and saw the dog pacing in a circle in the backyard. He opened the window and the dog stopped to stare at him.

“How did you get here?”

She ran to the back door. Andres had to get her out of there before his father heard. He put on his shoes and scurried to the backyard. He heard scratching on the back door and decided she might be hungry and grabbed the T-bone. When he opened the door, she was sitting outside watching for movement in the shadows. Her head tilted to the right when she saw him. He tossed her the meat, but she stared at it and gave a low growl. He knew there was something off about the meat from Ace, and she confirmed it.

Andres ran back to the refrigerator and found a spatchcocked chicken he had gotten from the poultry farm down the street. The farmer said that Ace Meats was buying them out, and practically gave the chicken away. He said Ace was ruining the Los

Cielos and he should get out with his family before they were next, but now Andres wondered if he meant something more sinister.

He tossed her the chicken, and she devoured it, cracking bone and sucking the marrow. He remembered that he shouldn’t feed dogs chicken bones because they might splinter and cause choking. So, he fetched a bowl and filled it up with water in the sink to give to her. But she finished the whole chicken by the time he placed the bowl down. She slurped the water anyway with her large tongue. Andres watched her drink and smiled. She was fed and hydrated. For the moment, he was relieved.

“Ok, but you can’t be here. You have to go now.” He spoke in a soft tone; afraid his father would wake up and decide to get rid of the mutt himself.

But the dog stepped closer and let out a soft whine.

“No, I said get out of here,” he said while waving his hand to shoo her away.

She stepped closer still.

Then Andres realized he had been wrong.

She wasn’t whining.

She was whispering.

She murmured to Andres, but he couldn’t quite understand her. Or perhaps he didn’t want to. He became frightened.

“No! I said get out of here!” he cried. He quickly shushed himself, and closed his eyes, hoping his father didn’t hear him.

But it was too late. He heard the clunk of bottles echo from the living room.

“¿Qués ese pinche ruido?” His father staggered towards the commotion and saw what looked like Andres letting the pit bull into their home. He cocked his arm back and smacked the side of his son’s head with a sloppy fist.

“¡Ya sabes que estoy alérgico, pendejo, no te haces!” Andres fell to the ground and felt his ear immediately swell. He was dizzy and couldn’t stand. The dog stopped her whispering and growled. His father raised his drunken hands. Andres covered his face and anticipated the blows.

As he squeezed his eyes shut, he heard sharp claws shuffling and scraping against the floor. He heard the thud of a thick body hitting another followed by the sound of fabric being ripped to shreds. There was an inhuman snarl over his father’ s deep shouts. Then an unworldly shriek accompanied by a soft whimper. The last thing that he heard was a muted gargle under the noise of flesh being torn. Finally, silence.

Andres uncovered his face and opened his eyes. There was a pool of blood growing around his father’s neck, and he saw that a chunk of his throat was missing. His jeans were torn, and his leg had a large, powerful bitemark on it. A few of his fingers twitched and tapped on the tile as he bled out. His eyes stared at the ceiling but the life behind them was gone. Andres stood up and vomited.

“What did you do?!” The dog stood next to his father and licked her red and wet muzzle.

“¡Apá, levantase!” Andres shook his father, but he didn’t move. He looked back at her as she sat with her tongue out, proud of herself.

“You killed him!” Her ears perked up and she scowled at him, almost confused. Andres had wanted his father to understand his pain, to get some sort of retribution, but not like this. He put his hands up.

“Please don’t hurt me. You’re a good girl. Aren’t you? You’re a good girl… don’t hurt me.” The dog tilted her head to the right and watched his lips as he spoke. Andres circled around her slowly, inching against the wall to make a run for it out the door.

“I AM A GOOD GIRL,” she said as her flew flapped into a smile.

“D-did you…did you just…speak?”

She stuck her tongue out and panted with a wide grin.

“Are you…are you Cinnamon?”

She sucked her tongue back into her mouth and glared at him.

“THAT WAS NEVER MY NAME.”

“Then what is?”

“I AM A GOOD GIRL,” she repeated. Her jowl drooped down as she puckered up her snout.

“Are you lost?”

“NO.” She stepped over his dead father and brushed by him to step outside.

He stood paralyzed and transfixed by her. She sat in the backyard and stared at him.

“COME.”

“W-where?”

“YOU KNOW WHERE.”

She turned and faced the ancient mountains. He looked in the same direction and felt a pull towards them. Was the tribe in my dream real? Is THIS real? he thought.

“WE WILL PROTECT YOU. I WILL PROTECT YOU. I AM A GOOD GIRL.”

Andres looked at his father lain in blood. He could leave and never look back. Then he thought of his mother putting up missing posters with his photo. He didn’t want to leave her behind, she would be alone in this strange and twisted town. But how would he explain this? He looked back at the dog and saw her march towards the back fence.

“Wait! What about my life here, my mother? What will happen to her? What do I say?”

The dog stopped and looked back at him slightly impatient.

“SHE IS NO LONGER YOUR MOTHER. SHE IS NOW ONE OF THEM. SHE HAS BEEN CORRUPTED. YOU MUST LEAVE NOW OR YOU WILL BE TOO.”

“What do you mean?”

“ALL WILL BE REVEALED. BUT WE MUST GO NOW. COME.”

She looked up at him and somehow, deep inside he understood. Andres followed her to the back fence.

She crawled under the fence through a hole she dug and waited for him on the other side. He hesitated. Andres looked back at the neglected house he had briefly lived in. This place was never really his home. The other kids ignored him. The townsfolk looked at him with mistrust. His mother was absent and worked for a malevolent corporation. And his father was dead. He had lived his whole life on the road, running away from his father’s mistakes. Now, he finally had a choice.

He heard the Good Girl whisper from the other side of the fence, inviting him to become a part of her tribe.

He climbed over and felt a mysterious pull beckon him towards the Tehachapi Mountains, and she was his guide. He followed her through the fields of Los Cielos and out of the town’s borders.

Andres had always wanted a dog.

Dedicated to the loving memory of Scarlet. A rescue who saved me. Forever in our hearts.