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Snowflakes-Fiction by Randy Numann
The Moveable Feast-Fiction by Roy Dorman
The Baker Street Motel-Fiction by D. V. Bennett
Freddie's Back-Fiction by Kenneth James Crist
Gangsta Girl-Fiction by J. Brooke
The Black Beast of Fulham-Fiction by Alice Wickham
The Supermart...Special-Fiction by Michael D. Davis
Star of Vengeance-Fiction by Cindy Rosmus
The Watcher-Fiction by Jacqueline M. Moran
Royal Curse-Fiction by Donald D. Shore
Order Up. One Alibi to Go-Fiction by M. A. De Neve
The Man Under the Bed-Fiction by Sharon Frame Gay
Fly-Fiction by Doug Hawley
Spiral Face-Fiction by Willie Smith
Stegmann's Basement_Flash Fiction by Peter DiChellis
It's Just Me-Flash Fiction by Kenneth James Crist
Kid's Games-Flash Fiction by Tim Frank
Converse Canvas Tennis Shoe Lying on the Road-Poem by Daniel G. Snethen
Solution #1-Poem by Abe Nore
boo!-Poem by Meg Baird
Childhood Effigies-Poem by Ron Torrence
Nocturne-Poem by Melissa Dobson
The Name-Poem by Melissa Dobson
Direction-Poem by Jonathan Butcher
The Escape-Poem by Jonathan Butcher
Rolly Pollies-Poem by Alex Salinas
Smoke Dream-Poem by Alex Salinas
Son of a Gun-Poem by Christopher Kenneth Hanson
Stand-Up-Poem by Christopher Kenneth Hanson
The Artificial Lighting-Poem by John D. Robinson
Free Doses-Poem by John D. Robinson
Here We Are, You & I-Poem by John D. Robinson
Wanderer-Poem by David Spicer
Raconteur-Poem by David Spicer
Desperado-Poem by David Spicer
Strange Days at Cafe Bizarro-Poem by Dr. Mel Waldman
Night Revelations in Bizarro Country-Poem by Dr. Mel Waldman
The Room with a No-Exit Sign-Poem by Dr. Mel Waldman
The Nameless-Poem by John Grey
The Time of the Spider-Poem by John Grey
Good Luck to Whoever Finds My Body-Poem by John Grey
Cartoons by Cartwright
Hail, Tiger!
Angel of Manslaughter
The Gazing Ball
Strange Gardens
Gutter Balls
Calpurnia's Window
No Place Like Home
ALAT
Dark Tales from Gent's Pens

ym_76_oct19_moveablefeast.jpg
Art by Hillary Lyon 2019

THE MOVEABLE FEAST

Roy Dorman

 

 

                                                                                     

“I could die out here.”

Edward Hollister knew he was in trouble.  He had taken an overgrown path that had split off from the main path and then had taken an even more overgrown path from that split.

Edward liked hiking and knew from experience that the path less travelled sometimes led to rewarding views and interesting animal life.

The view he had right now was of two coyotes eying him warily from about twenty feet away as if deciding whether to come closer.  Overhead, near the top of a tall pine tree, a hawk had landed and was also taking in the situation.

Edward had not been paying attention to his footing and had slipped from the path, falling about fifteen feet down a steep incline.  While trying to slow his descent, he had done something to his ankle.  He felt blood in that hiking boot and had almost passed out when he tried to move that foot.

Now he just lay on his back trying to think of a way out of this predicament.

Spotting an old cabin well off the path had been what had distracted him.  He had slowed down and was trying to get a clearer picture of the cabin when he stumbled off the path.

Hindsight, he now knew he should have kept moving away from the cabin.  There had been smoke coming from the chimney and it definitely didn’t smell like wood smoke.  There was a strong chemical stink to it that made Edward think about the stories he’d read in the news about drug people in isolated areas making meth.

“Cooking meth,” was the last thing he had whispered to himself before falling.

The coyotes that had been twenty feet away were now only fifteen feet away.

“Shoo!  Go on, get outta here!” Edward hissed at them.

The coyotes tucked their tales between their legs and retreated a few steps.  The larger of the two bared its teeth and gave out with a low growl.

Edward was worried about going into shock and passing out.  The thought of being unconscious with those two coyotes that close caused him to break out in a cold sweat.

He decided he had to have help right now even if it was from druggies.

“Help!  Help!” he called toward the cabin.  “Can anybody hear me?  I need help!”

The coyotes perked up their ears and then ran off about thirty yards before turning around and looking back at Edward.

From the direction of the cabin, a big mixed-breed dog, maybe part yellow lab or golden retriever, had come barking and snarling at the coyotes. After sniffing at Edward’s broken ankle for a bit it went back to barking at the coyotes.

The dog was in pretty poor condition.  Edward thought it was either feral or owned by someone who didn’t much care for it one way or the other.

“What’s all the noise, Jessie?” came a voice from above Edward.  “Whatcha got, girl?”

“She’s barking at a couple of coyotes,” said Edward.  “I’m Edward Hollister.  I fell and need help.  I think I broke my ankle.”

“Whatcha doin’ out here?” said the man from up on the path.  “Snoopin’, were ya?”

“No, no; I was hiking,” said Edward.  He tried to turn and look up to see who he was talking to, but the pain when he moved just a little stopped him.  “Look, I’ve got some money with me and I can get more if you can get me to a doctor.”

Edward heard someone making their way down the incline.  A skinny, dirty man who could have been thirty or forty knelt by him.  He set a shotgun on the ground next to him, making sure it was out of Edward’s reach.

“Let’s see whatcha got in yer wallet, there,” he said, roughly moving Edward from his back onto his side.

Blackness swirled in Edward’s vision and he almost passed out.  “Go ahead,” he gasped through clenched teeth.  “Take it; I’ll get more for you when I’m fixed up.”

“I’ll just take most of it,” said the man, taking cash from Edward’s wallet.

“Take it all.  You can have it all.  Just get me to a doctor.”

“You ain’t goin’ to no doctor; you seen too much.  If and when somebody finds ya, it’ll look like ya just fell from the path.  Death by misadventure I think they call it.”

 The man put Edward’s wallet back into his pocket.  He then roughly repositioned Edward so he was lying crosswise on the ground.

Edward hadn’t noticed it before, but he had landed on a sort of ledge at the bottom of the incline.  After that ledge, there was another thirty-foot incline, even steeper than the one he had tumbled down.

“Please!  If you do this, it’s murder!”  said Edward as he looked down into the drop.

“Givin’ a man a little push don’t seem like murder to me.  Does it to you, Jessie?”

The man then put both of his hands on Edward’s back and shoved him over the ledge.  Edward rolled and bounced and finally landed in a heap at the bottom of the second incline.

If anybody were to use that path, his body wouldn’t be visible from it.

Though the dog continued to bark, the coyotes cautiously started to walk toward Edward.  The hawk didn’t even need to move.  When the coyotes were done with their feast, it would have what they left.

“Let’s go, Jessie.  I got work to do.”

 

THE END


Roy Dorman is retired from the University of Wisconsin-Madison Benefits Office and is the submissions editor of Yahara Prairie Lights. He has had poetry and flash fiction published in One Sentence Poems, Near to the Knuckle, Yellow Mama, Shotgun Honey, Theme of Absence, Drunk Monkeys, The Flash Fiction Press, Black Petals, and a number of other online magazines.

Hillary Lyon is an illustrator for horror/sci-fi and pulp fiction websites and magazines. She is also founder and senior editor for the independent poetry publisher, Subsynchronous Press. An SFPA Rhysling Award nominated poet, her poems have appeared in journals such as Eternal Haunted Summer, Jellyfish Whispers, Scfifaikuest, Illya’s Honey, and Red River Review, as well as numerous anthologies. Her short stories have appeared recently in Night to Dawn, Yellow Mama, Black Petals, Sirens Call, and Tales from the Moonlit Path, among others, as well as in numerous horror anthologies such as Night in New Orleans: Bizarre Beats from the Big EasyThuggish Itch: Viva Las Vegas, and White Noise & Ouija Boards. She appeared, briefly, as the uncredited "all-American Mom with baby" in Purple Cactus Media’s 2007 Arizona indie-film, "Vote for Zombie." Having lived in France, Brazil, Canada, and several states in the US, she now resides in southern Arizona.  https://hillarylyon.wordpress.com/                                             

In Association with Black Petals & Fossil Publications 2019