| Current Issue | Contents Page - This Issue | Editorial Staff | About This Journal | Submissions |
| Acceptance Criteria | Haibun Definitions | Articles | Archives | Search | Red Moon Press |

Contents Page: Jan 1, 2012, vol 7 no 4

| Contents | Next |

Shelly Bryant

Spook Fish

He stands on the jetty, under the tropical sky. The glowing Chimaeras blinking at him from somewhere near the seabed — "spook fish," his dive instructor had called them. They echo the stars overhead.

He sighs, and thinks again of his mother. The tears that streaked her face before he had headed south put a damper on this escape to paradise.

"I know it's been nearly forty years, but I can't take another minute of it! You know how he is. I'd have never stayed with him all these years if it wasn't for you kids. It was all for you...."

All night it had gone on, the rant. He'd just sat there dumbly. What was there to say?

In the morning, Dad had driven him to the airport. The sun was just threatening to rise when the car stopped at the curb.

"Dad, talk to Mom—"

"What'd'ya want me to say? Go on. This is where you get out."

And so he'd hoisted his bag onto his shoulder, turning away from their history, her hysterics.

He puts his chin down onto the jetty handrail, gazing down at the twinkle of the spook fish.

fire's secret lair
in the depths hidden
— a god is forged

| Contents | Next |