Black Petals Issue #82 Winter, 2018

Mars-News, Views and Commentary
A Nowhere Friend-Fiction by Roy Dorman
Broken Image-Fiction by Andrew Newall
Monster-Fiction by Paloma Palacios
Salvation_Fiction by Scott Dixon, Featured Author
Scream-Fiction by Anthony ('Tony') Lukas
Surviving Montezuma-Fiction by Kenneth James Crist, Chapters 13 & 14
The Foundling-Fiction by Roy Dorman
The Girl Who Isn't Talked About-Fiction by James Gallagher
Beggar's Curse-Poem by Alexis Child
Marco-Three poems from Christopher Hivner
In Line at the Terminal-Four poems by Michael Keshigian
Ghost Poets-Four Poems by Jerry McGinley
Killer Clowns-Four Cryptid Poems by Richard Stevenson




By Paloma Palacios


An eye on things/Editor’s Favorite



It’s Halloween night. Laughter echoes outside as my doorbell rings. My eye snakes around the door, greeted by a chorus of high pitched voices.

“Trick or Treat!”

Chubby hands hold out neon bags. Parents smile at their little monsters, princesses, and action figures. My tentacles slither out, wrappers glistening between their fleshy coils. Teeth shine as candy tumbles into their bags.

“Thank you, Mr. Monster!” each sings with every drum of candy in their bag.

Older children come—a devil and his band of vampires and zombies. Where are their parents?

“Are you real?” the tall devil asks, shooting his hand forward.

His hand collides with my eye, forcing a high-pitched squeal from my four, toothy mouths around the base of my tentacles. I barely see their blurred shapes disappear into the night. Soft, chubby hands stroke my leathery optic nerve, tingling from the shock.

“Are you ok, Mr. Monster?” a soft, disembodied voice asks.

I shake my eye, tears sloshing from side to side. Cold candy crinkles as warm hands press into one of my tentacles. A large shadow appears in front of me.

“Sorry about that. Kids can be real jerks,” a deep voice remarks. “Look up and stay still, ok? I’m going to give you some eye drops.”

Cool drops fall into my eye, soothing my nerves. Looking down, a child’s face comes into focus, peeking out the mouth of a pink hippo onesie, eyes wide and watery. Behind her stands a large woman holding a small, white bottle of contact fluid, her forehead creased. I rumble, and coil my tentacles into the best ‘thumbs up’ I can muster. If it had a snake’s head, it would look like a coiled cobra ready to strike.

Smiling, they leave, neon bags swinging in the street lights.

“It’s been very nice meeting you, Mr. Monster!” the little pink hippo girl calls as she waves back at me.

It’s been nice meeting you too, little pink hippo girl.


The End

Paloma Palacios-Deleon,, who wrote BP #82’s “Monster,” was born in Denver, Colorado. She now lives near the Gulf of Mexico in Texas with her family.

Site Maintained by Fossil Publications