by Mary E. Lowd
How many voices do we lose
Because listening is so hard
That almost no one
Does it? Continue reading “The Voices of Orchids”
The Fluffy Tail
by Mary E. Lowd
The kitten has been growing
His fluffy tail overflowing
Like a fountain or waterfall Continue reading “The Fluffy Tail”
Build-a-Pet
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Hexagon, Issue 9, June 2022
Leslie yanked the toggle on the Build-a-Pet arcade machine with one hand and mashed the big round buttons with the other. On the screen looming above her head, a colorful, twisted ladder bent and spun around, and large friendly letters spelled out words she couldn’t read yet. Though she did recognize the letter L. She knew that one from her own name. Continue reading “Build-a-Pet”
Piper & Julian
I love how when my cats Piper and Julian play together, Julian makes these pretty, purring, “I’m so happy we’re playing!” sounds and Piper makes these growling, angry, “I wish you were dead!” sounds. The contrast is hilarious.
Ginger Tea for the Dragon
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Hot Chocolate for the Unicorn and Other Flights of Fancy
Ever since my fortieth birthday, I’ve been thinking a lot about mortality. What happens when we die? Is there anything waiting for us on the other side of the veil, or is this life all we have? The thoughts catch me when I’m alone; when it’s late at night; or even sometimes right in the middle of a chaotic day, rushing around with my kids on errands. Continue reading “Ginger Tea for the Dragon”
The Dragon in My Toe
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Hot Chocolate for the Unicorn and Other Flights of Fancy
A tiny dragon burrowed into the big toe on my right foot, curled up around the joint, and lives in there now. Well, sleeps there. It seems to sleep all day long, like a cat in a sunbeam. Except, a dragon. In my toe.
Most of the time, I don’t notice it at all. But sometimes, the dragon shifts in its sleep, writhing and rearranging, and I feel all the spines along its back and long, coiling tail scrape and screech against my bones, brightening my foot with pain like lightning forks across the sky. Continue reading “The Dragon in My Toe”
Sister Ghost
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Hot Chocolate for the Unicorn and Other Flights of Fancy, December 2024
They say that Hot Lake Hotel is haunted, but the shimmer of bluish light in the corner of my room wasn’t waiting for me when I arrived. She came with me. She’s been following me all of my life. Almost all of my life.
I close the door to my room — lucky number 113 — behind me and gratefully pull off the face mask I still wear everywhere. I know that most people have moved on from the pandemic, but between my rattly joints and asthmatic breathing, the last thing I need is to roll the dice on long Covid. So, I still mask up when I go out. Continue reading “Sister Ghost”
When He Stopped Crying
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Electric Spec, Vol. 14, Issue 1, February 2019
Karyanne knew right away when the fae replaced her son. The baby had been crying days straight, since he was born. Karyanne didn’t even know how long that was. She woke to darkness. She woke to brittle morning light. She woke to darkness. She woke to full, ripe, afternoon light slanting through the venetian blinds. It was all the same. It was all baby screams, and her eyes glued shut from tears and exhaustion, and the back of her head hurting, and her body aching all over. Continue reading “When He Stopped Crying”
Spoiler Warning
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Hot Chocolate for the Unicorn and Other Flights of Fancy, December 2024
SPOILER WARNING: Denise is not the killer.
When a series of people are brutally murdered and gnawed on, inconveniently one full moon after Denise is first bitten by that wolf, it will LOOK like she’s the killer. And it will be heartbreaking, because she’s just so awkward, nerdy, and sweet. But don’t give up. Keep watching. It’s not her. Continue reading “Spoiler Warning”
Eight Ways
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Theme of Absence, September 2021
Blake had heard octopuses were smart, but it was hard to believe, looking at the blurring mass of muscle. He scooped the hand net into the cold water of the storage cell, like a plastic tub set into the deck of his small fishing boat. Tentacles writhed in a squirming reddish brown mass below. He couldn’t even make out a single individual creature in there. Just limbs. Squishy, slippery limbs. Continue reading “Eight Ways”