[by Melissa Crandall]
After the pandemic had killed everyone but him, Emerson left the city and wandered without purpose, a shambling thing half-dead with grief. He longed to lie down and die as well, but a hot kernel of regret kept him walking; guilt for having failed Imogen. Continue reading The Last Zoo Keeper
[by S. L. Scott]
I see her each day: the woman with the feather in her hair. On my way to work in the morning, I catch a glimpse of her. A black trench coat is always hugged tightly around her, each strap and buckle drawing the eyes down her figure, which shifts like smoke as she moves. Auburn curls collect at her neck like flames fluttering away in the wind, and tucked amidst them is the feather. Continue reading The Woman with the Feather in Her Hair
[by Marjorie Jensen]
inspired by the Joshua Barnhart song at the Presidio Yacht Club
Inside, green lights
float over us—
spin notes over skin,
through my hair. Continue reading Dance With Me
Wild Musette was delighted to feature Särah Nour’s short story, Medusa at the Morgue, as the title piece for issue #1801 of the Wild Musette Journal. Paired with cover art from the amazing Angie Flanagan, Medusa at the Morgue tells the story of a young goddess in search of a career. Continue reading A Conversation with Särah Nour
[by Dani Clark]
The pre-dawn darkness outside his bedroom window waned and distracted Nathaniel from his book. Wind stirred the maple trees outside. The tree leaves curled like rippling water and the branches reminded him of happy girls, dancing. The changing leaves had already become orange and red, and he thought of highlights in auburn hair. Continue reading Autumn
[by Brandon Getz]
My father was an avalanche.
People would ask me, How is it that your father is an avalanche?
I would go to the mountain to ask him. Continue reading The Avalanche’s Daughter
[by Jordan Taylor]
“Ireland’s Fairy Tours:” The green, Celtic script took up almost half of the guidebook’s page. Droplets of rain plinked onto the page and ran down its silken surface, briefly highlighting letters, words – “A,” “I,” “hills,” “sky.”
I was lost. Continue reading Do You See?
[by Jenny Blackford]
My oldest friend (so young!)
attacks a bowl of limp green leaves
coated in white slime—the only option
at this trendy pub for all her sensitivities:
mind, body, spirit. Continue reading Yoga Ladies’ Christmas Lunch
[by J.M. Young]
How did I get here?
We had made the choice that ending our engagement like mature adults was the best course for the both of us. We weren’t good for one another, in that way. Ethan took a job as a professor in Boston. I refused to leave my photography business in Tennessee. Long distance was torturous. He has a daughter ten years my junior who hated my guts. He made me cry almost every time we were together. The list goes on.
But we were good in the sack. Continue reading Promise
[by Bethany van Sterling]
“The duende never repeats itself, any more than the waves of the sea do in a storm.” – Federico Garcia Lorca
She could hear the peaks and falls of the notes twirling through the air, as she turned the corner in the cold, musty vestibule of the metro station. Two cobalt eyes glanced up from his instrument, not once, but twice. Continue reading The Return