Green

by R.C. Peris

Like a beast from worn, ancient hills and hidden caves riddled with crevice worms

Eve was starved, wild – a thing so similar to the thundering lizards roaming sweltered plains

She was collapsing, inward, cheeks fallen in and separated bones poking thin skin

She had Adam’s magic rib so graciously given to her so she could have life – breath, form

In her knotted hair crinkled, cracking leave corpses cluttered reminding of winter future

Final death of universal autumn running to time’s end where winter guts all, the bitter mass

Adam preferred the high weeds, cracking neck bones of deep roaming mammals, flinging flints

He paid no attention to Eve withered from minus attention, her organs drying in curdled blood

She had his rib but he did not notice the vacancy, the hole blasted with God’s dynamite touch

Near a tree Eve’s gluey tears stuck to pale, yellow dried grasses for Eden was wasting in drought

The serpent was disturbed, upset in a mirror and only wanted the immediacy of misery to die

Eve gazed to the white sky for the sun was new and balmy glowing hues had yet to refine

The serpent chucked a book through the nearly juiceless air from the tall, blooming tree

It hit Eve on the neck and fell open, alien marks from an alien beast, she could not read

The serpent chucked a perfected fruit through the shriveled air from the eternal, flowering tree

Eve, ravished with hunger and raving in mind, bit the flesh candied and luscious, velvet soft

Knowledge trickles slow, drop, drop, beading like sweat on fine fevered skin in summer heights

Her sinews plumped, her cheeks expanded and fattened, her hips a maddening curve of song

Eve knew all, her purpose and her strength, and she went to the savannah to find oblivious Adam

She found him crouching by a beast with bristled hair and in his hand was a sharpened stick

Adam was callow, a He-child ready to kill the life, the animal he thought was given to him

God said dominion and Adam knotted rope and tethered all his gifts, interpreted subjugation

Eve handed the saccharine bitten core to Adam to eat, let the infinite light flood his nucleus

Adam was suspicious of Eve and her bizarre outline, without him she would have no life

She looked at him, feral and now soft, filled out and flooded with some heat he didn’t know

He was hungry so he consumed and took in all that nutritious fruit, the only thing forbidden

And when the knowledge came to him, not slow but a torrent, a waterfall in the hidden soul

He sat down the weapon and fell upon Eve, now familiar, no longer a child, and with his rib

Eve allowed him in, a hot smile and something more humanly primitive than the riches of Eden

There were no terrifying angels, fluttering wings or mountains to scale for the precipice plunge

There was green, varied, articulated, lustrous, dark and light, a billion hues as Adam moved

It rained in Eden but the water was home and it flooded the thirsty and graced the soil

The animals shivered, the serpent wetted and slick, and even God wept for Adam and Eve

For the love growing in the leafy, pliable kernel – the verdant abyss rising up in Eve

Crescendo thunder, blinding silver lightning, magma swelling beneath the rigid land

Eve screamed in the illumination and Adam quivered in the realization, sudden weighty love

She said to breathless Adam, “You gave me absorbing life, splash of seed, a dear libation.”

She said to sleepy Adam, “Thank you for the rib and the green sapling shooting in my soul.”

And Eve slept under a bower of crystal smeared stars and winked at the expanding time


R.C. Peris, when not writing, dreams of having a chicken sanctuary, a sloth as a walking partner, and a refrigerator full of cheesecake. She loves polka dots, mixing cocktails, and mysteries – from Sherlock Holmes to the quirkiness of quantum stuff. She has published three books and is feverishly at work on a few screenplays, when not writing short stories. She comes from a land that is occasionally full of fire, floods, rumbling earth, famous people, and with a tendency to riot – California.

The Epiphany

by Nelia Aboagye

It is January, it is a new year and suddenly I realize that what was once my last year’s resolutions are creeping up in my mind, screaming out to be let out into my new year planner/journal. It suddenly dawns on me that I never accomplished my last year’s resolution.

The guilt fills my chest and my heart begins pounding, my palms are sweating as my eyeballs push out of their sockets and are ready to pop out. I rub my sweaty palms on to my arms and my panic is disturbed by the goosebumps all over my arms and my ice-cold feet. Wait a minute, I am having a panic attack!

I run across the room searching frantically in my desk drawers, looking for my last year’s journal. Documents, bits and bobs fly out of the drawers as I throw them out in search of my old journal.

“Aha!” Found it, I quickly find a spot to sit while I flip through the pages in search of that long list of old resolutions.

With my face buried in my old journal, my eyeballs swing from left to right, back and forth hoping to see a tick reflecting an accomplishment – but no chance. A rush of sorrow fills my heart followed by disappointment. My body slouches as I exhale letting out a big sigh.

I sat in my home Office feeling disappointed in myself, I look around and I see a lot of things I have accomplished, a happy home, beautiful healthy children and suddenly I have an epiphany. New year’s resolutions are overrated and exaggerated. I was being harsh on myself and had false expectations of myself merely based on what others expect.

I realized that I owed no one but myself I answer to no one but myself, I realized I am happier having forgiven and loving myself. I suddenly realized I achieve more goals by doing what I love and happier at this.

The Epiphany is profound happiness in loving self.


Nelia Aboagye loves herself and her family (husband and four children, all boys) give her joy. She enjoys writing children’s books.

The Guitar

by Damon M. Garn

I’m going to do it, I decided. I’m going to buy it.

The sales guy was in the back, finding the box and paperwork. I stood alone at the front of the shop.

I was terrified and excited. Wary and thrilled.

I hadn’t consciously realized that I’d dreamed of this all my life. Sure I had fantasized about it but I’d always believed I had no ability. Now that I embraced my potential, I felt liberated. It’s the journey, not the destination.

So I put my debit card on the counter and carried my box of dreams outside.


Damon Garn lives in Colorado Springs, CO with his wife and two children. He enjoys hiking, writing and annoying his neighbors with mediocre guitar playing. He writes in the fantasy/sci-fi realm experimenting in flash fiction, short stories and a novel. Follow him on Twitter @dmgwrites or at dmgwrites.wordpress.com