Page 37 - HEF Pen & Ink 2020

did not feel the same blistering rage. Even so, the air outside that cool autumn morning felt crisper than before, and a small spark lit deep in Mike’s stomach. As the people thundered on, Mike’s spark grew until it was a small flame, and he felt the wind pick up and it stung his eyes and fed the flame more, and more, and more. The burgeoning flame crept up into Mike’s throat, flooding behind his eyes, and he began to understand that the movement of his body was no longer voluntary, that the flame was now him and whatever was left of Mike was banished to the depths of his stomach.
couch, like she’s afraid to let go. Mom says she was in a hole a street down. Apartments that burned down earlier this year, must’ve fallen in, she keeps going. Two-and-a-half days. Blind dog, our Ruby Rose, stuck in a cold, lonely pit for two and a half days. Fallen into imprisonment.
SWEET LIKE A CHERRY
by Dylan Culwell
NORMAL MONTANA WINTER
by Jaida Green
This foreign feeling was a fiery lust for vio- lence and passionate obstruction that he knew so well but had never felt inside himself, and now it was all he could see. The world began to burn like pa-
per, beginning with the edges where the sky met the mountains and it all began to close in on Mike. What he was breathing now was not autumn air, but thick smoke and it coated his lungs and his nostrils and soon all that was left to do was succumb to it. The flames roared around him and knocked him to the ground, and he felt them push into his back and wrap hot around his wrists, pulling tighter and tighter until all he felt was sweeping cold and then nothing
to walk her; she is usually on her own schedule and comes back when she feels like it. But it’s never been this long.
The air in my house is back to normal. I find myself watching her, making sure she’s still here. She is. I would like to ask her what freedom feels like. I go to sleep instead.
at all. He awoke in a cold, lonely cell with only the unforgiving smell of anguish and iron clogging his
nose.
———
It seemed like everyone was out looking for
Ruby that night, or they should have been, anyway. I never liked her much, but that didn’t matter because I hated the way that the house felt a little colder with her absence. At first, I wasn’t worried because she almost never comes home with whoever went out
I don’t like the lump in my throat, not big enough to cry out but not small enough to swallow. The world feels a lot bigger now; it feels like there are so many unchecked corners. Where could she be? Dogs are already dumb, but blind dogs really get the short end of the stick.
Frantic. It’s in Mom’s hair that she keeps run- ning her hands through, and there’s some behind the lampshade, and I see it clinging to the ceiling.
Frantic. I wish everyone would go to sleep. I want the house to be still again. Still and cold and lacking is better than frantic and lukewarm and full of skeptical faith. We will find her; I tell everyone through my mind. Or we won’t.
I come home to her nestled deep into the
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