The Narrow Edge
Snippets and Speculative Fiction
“The Little Wild” Dark Fantasy by Julian Grant
The ‘Little Wild’ is what she called it — and it shall be ours forever.
We had bought the farmhouse when we finally had had enough of the city (Poppy agreed, the city had become too dangerous and noisy). As we were both older, without children, having met later in life at the Popular Culture Association Conference in Boston, we were both determined to make our soon encroaching Senior years as enjoyable as possible. We made for an unlikely couple what with Poppy’s paper on psychoanalytic theory and gender in Fairy Tales while my own talk was a stump speech for the Graduate Program in library science we offered at Northwestern. We bonded on archival methods, preservation, organization, and best practices marrying almost a year to the date of our first encounter. No odder couple had there perhaps been. We were visually unique as well. She,Rubenesqueand committed to smoking a…
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BAD MEDICINE
by Kilmo
I thought,
I was too old for this,
Too jaded and world weary,
And yet when I listen to the radio today,
And hear of Afghan women,
We trained to fight,
Hiding in ditches,
Ripe with sewage,
And the countless thousands,
We showed a glimmer,
Of a different world too,
Now left behind,
As the wolves close in,
I find myself,
Close,
To tears.
If Wishes Were Fishes
by Kilmo
We want certainty,
Good,
Evil,
The ability to look,
At a man,
Or woman,
And see their nature,
Like a soothsayer,
With a crystal ball,
But blinded by history,
And a thousand,
Layers of experience,
Like an onion,
Made from scars,
We can’t see,
The truth,
Is a lot,
More complicated,
Than that.
The Wrong Room
by Kilmo
Words,
They sound good don’t they?
And we just love them,
We must do,
Seeing as we’re always chasing them,
Looking for the grand promise,
The glittering illusion,
We don’t even know we make,
But we do,
Building castles out of hot air,
Dreams,
And aspirations,
We draw them over us,
Like quilts,
A patchwork of fantasy,
We can believe in,
To get us through the day,
And keep us warm at night,
We’re as bad as poets,
Having hope,
Belief,
Vision,
And respite,
It’s important,
But if you ask me,
It’s worth a lot of coin,
To know,
We’re only human,
And humans lie.
The Narrow Edge 