By Rebecca Harrison
We carried the lake with us. We packed it in boxes and mugs. My job was to fill all the spoons. My fingers were wrinkled. I smelled of ducks. They said my clothes were so soaked I’d leave a trail of lake while we walked. I felt it dripping. I wondered if the kingfishers would follow us.
We stopped in a town. I pressed my ears to the mugs because I missed the water sounds. They told me to stay awake and guard the lake while they slept. I watched them lean against the walls and close their eyes. There were faces at the windows. I held the mugs tighter. The streets felt like pebbles. I opened some of the boxes and poured bits of the lake out.
I tipped out the spoons and cups. I had to climb up on the roof. I saw the others drift away. People left their houses.
I live on the rooftops now. The kingfishers are here. I don’t think of the town under the lake.
Rebecca Harrison sneezes like Donald Duck and can be summoned by a cake signal in the sky. Her best friend is a dog who can count. She was a finalist in the first Wyvern Lit flash fiction contest. Her stories can also be read at Literary Orphans, The Harpoon Review, Gravel Magazine, Pigeonholes Magazine, Maudlin House, and elsewhere.
Art: “From the Water” by Jenny Germann
Jenny Germann’s work is based on locations that hold significance in her life. She uses landscapes to convey experiences, often drawing influence from her travels and daily observations.
She uses a blend of pyrography (woodburning) and painting to express her vision. Pyrography lends a controlled and physically satisfying aspect to the work, whereas the painting is experimental and evocative. She mixes the mediums as a way to communicate her perspective, using making as a form of introspection, and personal expression.
Born in Kansas, Jenny lives and works in Lancaster, PA. She earned her BFA from the University of Kansas and is getting her MS from Eastern University. She is married to furniture designer and cabinetmaker Evan Germann and together, they have two (adorable) dogs.