Posts

Leshy

Chase Johnson   Leshy   “It’s cold,” said Ilya, pulling small mittens over his hands. His father and older brother ignored him. In fact, they had been unusually quiet tonight. His brother Kostya held a lantern and walked first, his breath coming with the cadence of his step, illuminated in the dim light. Even the lantern was losing to the cold. Their father walked in stride with his eldest son, the dark barrel of a shotgun resting in the bend of an elbow. Ilya shuffled along behind, rubbing his little hands together. Even for autumn, it was chilly, and the night air stung his lungs and windpipe if he breathed too hard. A thick layer of dead leaves crunched underfoot, and he enjoyed sweeping his feet through the deeper piles of them. This drew a glare from his older brother, and Ilya stopped kicking leaves, wincing. Kostya was always yelling at Ilya, sometimes kicking him or smacking him over the head. Ilya thought he was just mad for no reason and had come to expect random

The Man, the Myth, the Legend

Craig sat on the living room floor, adjusting the dial to his toy train.  It only went in a circle most of the time, but not now.  It was the last gift from his dad, and he treasured it.  Craig’s dad, Robert Norris, was a professor of mythology at a local university, and was often buried in a book studying the histories and beliefs of some ancient culture.  When the school was no longer able to continue the mythology program, due to a lack of interest, Mr. Norris found himself out of a job.  His wife picked up the slack by finding a second job to cover expenses while she waited for her husband to redefine his career.   Two years later, he was still pretending to look.  He grew accustomed to sitting at home and absorbing himself in the stories of dead civilizations.  It was difficult for Mrs. Norris, but it was during these two years that young Craig Norris grew in his fascination of all things ancient.  The boy loved to listen, sitting on their scuffed velvet couch or at the ki