I had the pleasure of reading Written Word again this month and wasn’t disappointed by issue #9. In the cover story, “The Last of A Million Wishes” by Joanne Hall, Zinnia and Lettanie are fairy friends warned by their elders not to explore “the boy’s bedroom.” And, as predicted, when disaster strikes, Lettanie tries in vain to escape her imprisonment.
Abandoned by the “we told you so” elders, it’s up to Zinnia, who can only do so much to save her friend. This is more than a fairy tale and struck me as an allegory of women trapped in abusive relationships. Hall renders a profoundly sad tale with vivid scenes and descriptions that left me disquieted and weepy. The haunting cover illustration by Irapuan is a beautiful translation of the author’s words into a visual image.
Daniel Ausema’s protagonist in “The Mad Juggler” remains unnamed, as do most of the characters. This creates a distant tone to the story of an indigent who shows up from time to time to amuse the neighborhood kids. Little is known or disclosed about Aric, the Mad Juggler, except rumor and speculation about his gypsy origins, evil intentions, or immortality.
The speculative element is easy to miss. Typical of magical realism, the story begins with clowns and ends with a puzzle that left me wanting to know so much more about the life of the juggler and the boy, neither of whom ever got good enough at juggling to impress anyone. Then again, life rarely offers neat resolutions, and most of us don’t live up to our great expectations. “The Mad Juggler” seems sparse, but there is a lot to think about in Ausema’s tightly woven yarn.
Mik Bennett does an effective job portraying the mysterious confusion and fatigue Steve and his supermarket co-workers experience in “Wakey, Wakey.” This got a bit difficult to sort out and left me wondering what finally did happen and why, but I do know it wasn’t good.
“Passing the Goddess” by Katie Karian is about an office romance reminiscent of the movie You’ve Got Mail. Placed where it is, this amusing treat was a welcome break from the sad and/or creepy.
If I say too much about “A Can of Ginger Ale,” I’ll spoil the read. Michael A. Kechula’s zombie tale pops open a macabre flash piece.
In “Patchwork” by Kurt Kirchmeier, Medina uses her gift to conjure patchwork creatures to help her down the path she and her brother, Lucio, must follow as they cope with the pain of their parents’ divorce.
“A square of denim slid sideways to merge with cotton; strips of silk and gossamer intertwined. Blue and white and green and yellow; soon all the swatches were connected, patched together like so much multicolored skin. The creature drew a breath.”
Medina struggles to understand why her gentle friends cause Lucio to do hateful things such as burn them alive. Is this a fantasy about children, or a child’s fantasy? Hard to say, but a compelling read either way, so ignore the misspelled title on the story pages.
In “The C.O.D. Club” by Lorrie Unites-Struiff, if you have to die an early, painful death, at least your designated visitor promises to:
“perform said [last] request to the best of my ability and vow to return with an honest report before the casket’s final closing, at which time their spirit must forever leave this earthly plane.”
The batty characterization and wry humor ends Written Word #9 on an up beat. But I had hard time believing a bereaved husband would blow off his beloved wife’s wake to tend to his own business. Then again, he has a novel excuse.
Discussion
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