when gunhild saw there fall to death
into the lake thru too much drink
the niece of uncle goldenbags
a devious plan had come to fruit
she stole the recently deceased’s
wardrobe & visited her friend
who twisted up her face’s form
that fit that which was buried now
& being familiar with that niece
was up to emulate her manner
so goldenbags was none the wiser
in fact so long had gunhild played
this part that she gradually
forgot she ever was another
& decades later drifted to death
thinking she was a goldenbag

maruša stared @ the abstract map with its colored lines twisting into each other like tangled cords with crows feet growing cancerously under her eyes.

¿you don’t expect me to take all these trains do you? it’s too many. i barely have time for all my other work.

to this the impassive force said nothing but raised up before her a white document, as glaring white as the sun. @ the bottom she could see her familiar signature searing her like a curse.

li’l did anyone know that ’twas in this seemingly barren, abandoned warehouse down in the valley where trees were leafless all seasons & puddles o’ mysterious gelatinous slime spread out year-long that all the crosses & stars that keep our society together like nuts & bolts were manufactured. yes, it’s here that the elements that compose all additions & all multiplications that make up our world are developed. one can only imagine what kind o’ chaos the world would be left in if some nefarious beings were to find this factory & destroy it…

o’ all the stories in ivywood, none is mo’ fascinating than the story o’ soluna, the celibria: a sun & moon conjoined by a strange rod, who had this inexplicable condition wherein when 1 grows, the other shrinks.

they started as street performers, showing anyone who would watch their special trick for donations, which soon blew up ¡gohury!, which caught the attention o’ what was then the biggest ivywood studio, freshmint, which, to be frank, like all o’ ivywood, was not the monster movie-maker it is now & was desperate for any talent it thought could go big. but as luck would have it, their 1st movie, sunshine & moonlight, became ivywood’s 1st big hit, grossing ’bout 500 million ₧.

soluna starred in a few mo’ films, but before long had grown disillusioned with the film industry &, mo’ importantly, fretted o’er the dangers o’ their growing & shrinking trick, so they retired & dedicated the rest o’ their lives to breaking off from their celibrian condition & fulfill the goal o’ celestial philosophy: to expand & rise into the stars.

in a tidy livingroom lit with the color o’ afternoon clouds sat the birthday girl, twitching with impatience, barely able to keep herself from ripping open the present plastered with dogs & cats sitting on her lap.

this 1’s from nerses, said her mother.

from the shadows crept the creature known as nerses, its pale long face nodding. the sight o’ this strange creature dowsed the birthday girl’s enthusiasm a bit, but not ’nough to keep her from opening her next present.

but years later she would wish that it had. she stared in confusion as she raised a heavy golden crown, & then inside it, a remote control. she looked up @ the creature known as nerses with a look o’ silent confusion.

without changing its expression, the creature known as nerses said in its cobweb-covered voice, i told you the time would come, & it has.

as the property owner stared @ the deformed white lump, he asked, so, then, with this thing no longer in the ground, ¿my field will grow ’gain?.

i wish ’twere that simple, said the inspector. come, follow me.

as they drove into the city, the inspector asked, ¿have you e’er taken the straight line before?.

no.

it’s pretty neat. it really cut down property prices when they began building the vertical layers.

the inspector parked in a parking garage & led him thru the fields o’ shiny cars into a different dark cave o’ cement, up to the door o’ an elevator. the inspector flashed her card o’er the front, pressed some buttons, & then the door opened & the inspector led him inside.

what was inside was not a small, empty room large ’nough to squeeze in only a few people, but a large square with windows — tho the windows only showed brown walls o’ sediment — & seats spread out under them. the inspector led him to a couple seats on the right & before long he could feel under his feet the elevator descend.

the tuber tumor didn’t just grow in your field. ’twas spread there by the one known as big papa, criminal mastermind o’ the undercities. to be honest, this was why we were interested in taking on inspecting your problem. we are currently trying to stop him from sabotaging people’s fields, & we are hoping that your testimony will help us.

¿but why is he trying to ruin people’s fields?.

his main commodity is real estate, but he’s trying to venture out into agriculture. he’s trying to ruin people’s fields so he can buy them cheap.

the inspector in a black suit & shades strode down the field, head turning here & there @ what seemed to be a valley barren o’ all but naked black trees while the property owner watched her curiously, shivering & trying to ignore the way the loose sleeves o’ his dress shirt flapped in the cold november wind.

then the inspector stopped with brows raised, hurried forward a few steps, & then bent down & pinched the ground. she rose back to her feet, pulling with her a long stringlike root. halfway up the root stopped & would not go up any mo’, so the inspector began to use greater & greater force till, finally, she was able to pull it out, yanking out with it deformed lump, sickly white with green splotches.

the inspector walked up to the property owner, hanging the lump in front o’ her, swinging left & right like the pendulum o’ a clock.

this is the cause for this field’s ailments. this is the tuber tumor.

’twas a rainy day today in forestapoli, no surprise, when fina giosuè walked into the car dealership. the dealer was a slick speedspitter & showed her many sedans & minivans & suvs that were now going @ a once-in-a-lifetime deal, — that’s what he claimed a’least — talking up this car’s fuel efficiency, that car’s hifi speakers…

but fina knew what she needed in order to get into the “association” & realize her lifelong dream o’ wearing that furry rodential costume & handing out those colored tickets. she strode ’head o’ the loudmouthed dealer & wandered ’long the lines o’ cars, frown deepening as she saw nothing but silver, red, black, white…

& then she stopped, her heart beating fast. if you could see her eyes from ’hind her sunglasses you would see a gaping white galaxies with tiny black stars for pupils.

here was the car she needed: with its warm yellow color, its red circles, its black toruses, its tiny green rectangles, & its brown mushrooms.

you’ve seen the sun set many times, i’m sure; ¿but have you seen the moon set?

that was what gilles odran was waiting for in that cold, desolate airport, wandering the seats back & forth, sitting down to read some trash thriller where a killer dresses up his corpses as marxmas trees, & checked his apple watch, watching the minutes slowly count down to midnight, &, ’course, looking up @ the sky to see that white ball slowly expand.

finally he saw it pick up its pace downward, swooping down in seemingly an instant. then gilles felt a quake so big it made the cigarette pop out o’ his mouth & onto the ground. gilles’s eyes were glued to the window as he watched the moon roll down the runway, & then, finally, crash into the pins patrolling the tunnel to bayline, disappearing into the darkness. with shaky fingers, gilles checked the pockets o’ his jacket to make sure his ruger was still in there, & then opened the door & went out toward the tunnel.

irina ignas, lead singer o’ the crystal cats, stood there with the pallor o’ granite before that booth plastered all o’er with eir red-eyed feline logo, eyes jumping all round her surroundings to keep herself prepared. then she saw a bald figure in black shades & a leather jacket seem to make eye contact. before she knew it he was walking up to her booth. she held her breath, waiting to see if he would give her the password.

¿would you sign this t-shirt? the name’s hevel mehriban.

there it was. irina nodded, & then held her breath as she lifted her pen. the glyphs o’ her reply, an ancient chant that goes all the way back to the eldest o’ gods, had to be inked precisely.

& there, on that cotton slab with their logo on it, she wrote the words, “irina ignas, crystal cats, ¡rock on, hevel mehriban!”.