“Death of a Goat” in Whirlwind Magazine’s Paralysis issue

The Death of a Goat

            “My brother was killed like a goat,” Boi said, leaning up against the crumbling concrete wall of the old campsite.

“What?” I said.

“That’s why I didn’t watch when they killed the goat today. My brother was killed like a goat.”

“That’s awful, Boi. I’m so sorry.”

I leaned against the wall next to him, my mind racing with doubts—about if I could begin to understand his situation, if I could appropriately respond, and then, just as quickly, if Boi was telling the truth, if his brother really was beheaded with a knife.

I had not noticed that Boi hadn’t watched the slaughter of the goat with the rest of us that day. Yet he felt as if he should explain himself, as if the absence of his presence was abnormal and required justification.

“Did you watch?” He asked me inquisitively, but with no judgment behind the question.

 

Read the rest of the story at Whirlwind Magazine.

 

coverissue9

Advertisements

Entropy Magazine: Variations on a Theme

IMG_5671

Entropy Magazine: Variations on a Theme

Sadness Or

by: Gina Tomaine

It was in the sixth hour of traffic on the turnpike from Pennsylvania to Boston that I began to gather my courage. I had been thinking about him, musing about the past, since the night before, and now, after these isolated hours of thought and noise and the road, I felt an overwhelming impulse to call. My cell phone rested slanted in my cupholder, tipping into the styrofoam side of the cold cup of coffee that had been sitting there, half-finished, since a bathroom stop in Connecticut somewhere around hour three. My console lit up with numbers and words that looked like bright red hieroglyphics—the display had been broken for years, and only showed random lines, which could be a five, or a four, or a seven, but never what song was playing, what track of a CD, what radio station. I still had to use CDs, since a plug-in for my iPhone had also become uselessness and disjointed – first only playing out of one side of the car speakers, then crackling on that side, then failing to emit any sound at all. Everything in my car was slightly askew, slightly dysfunctional, and yet it was the most comforting place I knew. It was a refuge…

Read the full piece here.