Black Petals Issue #107, Spring, 2024

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(After) Life is What You Make It: Fiction by Richard Brown
Gauche Cuisine: Fiction by Gordon L. Stewart
Here's to Forgetfulness: Fiction by Roger Johns
Insights Into the Trajectory of Human Cetacean Communication: Fiction by Andre Bertolino
Mal Ojo: Fiction by M. N. Wiggins
No Dark: Fiction by Bill Dougherty
Overtime: Fiction by Dennison Sleeper
A Cut Above the Rest: Fiction by Roy Dorman
Resemblance: Fiction by James McIntire
Sign of the Times: Fiction by Liam A. Spinage
The Attic Party: Fiction by Michael Fowler
The Renovators: Fiction by Hillary Lyon
The Balance: Flash Fiction by Rick McQuiston
Bawk Dark: Flash Fiction by Michael C. Jessen
The Incident With the Mismatched Man: Flash Fiction by Charles C. Cole
Radio Tower: Flash Fiction by Blair Orr
Take Me With You: Flash Fiction by Steven French
Slippery: Flash Fiction by Cindy Rosmus
Where Dead Babies Come From: Poem by Nolcha Fox
302 Asylum Avenue: Poem by Joseph Danoski
Another Story: Poem by Joseph Danoski
Home Repairs: Poem by Joseph Danoski
A Creepy Leap Year: Poem by Kenneth Vincent Walker
Funeral Memorial: Poem by Kenneth Vincent Walker
BatGrl: Poem by Casey Renee Kiser
Twin Flame: Poem by Casey Renee Kiser
Shadow Play: Poem by Simon MacCulloch
Dark Ride: Poem by Simon MacCulloch
Leviathans of the Void: Poem by Christopher Hivner
Sunbursts: Poem by Christopher Hivner
Into the Eyes: Poem by Anthony Bernstein
Airtime: Poem by Peter Mladinic
Gloria: Poem by Peter Mladinic
The Sorcerer: Poem by C. Walker
Frozen Eve: Poem by C. Walker

Michael C. Jessen: Bawk Dark

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Art by KJ Hannah Greenberg 2024

Bawk Dark

 

 

By

 

 

Michael C. Jessen

 

 

 

New cooks bubble a disquiet intention.

“Tada, I did it! Stews, soups, with sea salt, lentils, and vegetables… The Chef Masters will be so pleased.”

“Aw, way to go Angelo, I too am all smiles… What about you Amy?”

Silent, deathly awkward Amy Adams stares distantly at her dark pool of nothing.

“I… uh…I” Amy sputters, sniffing the sour broth, which hints of deathly becomings.

“Amy Adams! Is that… Is that your assigned soup, girl?!” The Head Chef asks.

“I.. yes… I don’t…”

“Well let’s try it then, silly girl,” the Head Chef says, hovering a spoon overtop, and squinting sharply at the dark liquid.

Suddenly, in a flurry of black, flapping wings, two living chickens rise frantically from the dark ebony soup.

“Egad, what on earth…. Mystic Amy Adams magic untamed?” The obviously flustered Head Chef says, waving and twiddling his wings, as feathers flew free and chickens soared.

All other junior chefs gaped in apparent merriment.

“Great god, girl, you created living chickens from nothing,” the Head Chef says amused. “Let’s process these Wilde beasts, into our next course or assignment…. Shall we?”

Many flashing, sharp knives flow out.

Ominously, four pale green eyes stared deadly promise on the team.

Suddenly, dire feathers fluttering as dire end, attacked the chefs, with an odd sheen biting from their open beaks.

“Amy?… Whaat?” The bloodied, falling Head Chef mutters.

More junior chefs fall feebly, their once eager knives falling free.

So soon, with death invites soaring, the supernatural chickens vanished.

Soon after, a stunned Amy Adams organized her things and shrugged emptily and left.

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