Editor's Page
YM Artists' Page
"Skeeter", the Official YM Mascot
YM Guidelines
Contact Us & Links to Other Sites
Perfect: Fiction by Elizabeth Zelvin
Duck, Duck, Goosed: Fiction by E. E. Williams
Call Back: Fiction by Brian Peter Fagan
Hanging Out: Fiction by Kenneth James Crist
Jelly Boy: Fiction by Cindy Rosmus
Billy's First Road Trip: Fiction by Shari Held
Craps: Fiction by Steve Carr
Blackout Blonde: Fiction by M. J. Holt
Can Lid: Fiction by Frank S. Karl
Hacked Off: Fiction by Pamela Ebel
The Poser: Fiction by Hillary Lyon
Trunk Space: Fiction by Jen Myers
Catching Up: Fiction by Edward Ahern
Butcher Knives Don't Float: Fiction by Chris Milam
The Grimsby Reaper: Flash Fiction by Jon Park
Bat Boy: Flash Fiction by Zvi A. Sesling
For Love: Flash Fiction by K. A. Williams
Getting Personal: Flash Fiction by Diana Dominguez
Owen and Jessica: Flash Fiction by Joseph Carrabis
Until I Wrestled It Back: Flash Fiction by Louella Lester
Lying in Wait: Flash Fiction by Robb White
Fox Fox Fanny Cuts: Poem by Otto Burnwell
Beer and Love Songs on a Wednesday Night: Poem by Richard Le Due
Her Wicked Devices: Poem by Lee Clarke Zumpe
Looking at the Sea: Poem by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal
Twilight Zone Kind of Days: Poem by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal
The Canvas: Poem by Meg Baird
me and the boys: Poem by Meg Baird
ode to sleep: Poem by Meg Baird
Plate Tectonics:Poem by Christopher Hivner
Seeking:Poem by Christopher Hivner
Bloodbound: Poem by Harris Coverley
Paradise: Poem by Harris Coverley
The Now Outside: Poem by Harris Coverley
Dallas County Phone Calls: Poem by Daniel G. Snethen
Two Old Ladies Arrested for Feeding Feral Cats: Poem by Daniel G. Snethen
Her Name Isn't Margo, but it Should Be: Poem by Daniel G. Snethen
Yorick: Poem by Daniel G. Snethen
After First Sex: Poem by Rp Verlaine
The New Same Goodbye: Poem by Rp Verlaine
Fishermen: Poem by Rp Verlaine
Three Years Ago: Poem by Rp Verlaine
the smallest feline is a masterpiece--da vinci: poem by Rob Plath
no typewriter or ABCs necessary: Poem by Rob Plath
my cat sleeps: Poem by Rob Plath
it's enough: Poem by Rob Plath
Cartoons by Cartwright
Hail, Tiger!
Strange Gardens
Dark Tales from Gent's Pens

Louella Lester: Until I Wrestled It Back

Art by Jen Mong © 2023

Until I Wrestled It Back


Louella Lester


          My roommate’s boyfriend brought him over and let him bound into the living room. When they left to see a movie, he stayed. Settled right into the couch, all muscled haunches and unblinking eyes.

          I brought him some water, it was the polite thing to do, and at first I thought he was watching me. Then I saw he was focused on something over my shoulder, in the same way my high school drama teacher had taught us to look just above the audience if we were nervous. It endeared him to me, the thought that I somehow made him nervous. What I didn’t know was that he wasn’t uncomfortable at all, he was eyeing my shadow.

          Before I knew it my roommate had moved out and he had moved in. At first, when we made what I thought was love, I could smell bursts of earth, seeds, and leaves, like the damp forest floor.

          As time went on, he started to come home later each Friday night. His paycheque decomposed into pocket change that spilled out when he dropped his jeans on the floor. He’d leap onto the bed. Roll over. Start to snore, while I cowered, my hair caught in his antlers.

           I often tried to tell him my concerns, but he knew how to distract me with his whisky and salt-lick lips. That was how, one night, he was able to do it. To reach behind my back and steal my shadow. Pull until it was thin like an over-stretched slingshot. So thin that it would have ripped in two if I hadn’t let it go.

          It flew past him and hit the wall. Slid down to the floor in a rubbery mess. When I reached down to pick it up, he pawed it under his side of the bed. “Leave it alone,” he whispered through gritted teeth, making sure I knew who controlled the forest.

          My shadow lay there collecting dust under the bed for months. Lay there long enough for me to forget. Forget its beauty. Its strength. Its size. Forget it was mine.

          Maybe if I had been a better housekeeper he wouldn’t have, one night, forced me to clean every nook and cranny. I wouldn’t have pushed the broom under the bed. Swept out the mess. Found the edge of my shadow. Wrapped it around my waist and pulled it out into the open.

          Maybe he wouldn’t have trotted into the bedroom. Caught my shadow’s tail, tried to yank it away from me then, weakened by a sneezing fit, lost his grip. Maybe my shadow wouldn’t have flown free. Taking me along with it. Right out the window.


Louella Lester is a writer/photographer in Winnipeg, Canada. Her writing has appeared in CleaverMacQueen’s QuinterlyLitro, Five Minutes, SoFloPoJo, Daily DrunkSix Sentences, New Flash Fiction, Reflex Fiction, and a variety of other journals & anthologiesHer Flash-CNF book, Glass Bricks, is published by At Bay Press (April 2021). 

Jen Mong is an artist based in Pittsburgh, PA. When not drawing or writing, she is reading; watching TV or movies; taking walks; listening to music; enjoying nature; and keeping company with family and friends.

In Association with Black Petals & Fossil Publications © 2023