by Apex Authors
Osvaldo González is a self-taught digital artist, born in Argentina. Working in a melancholic vein, he creates complex and emotional scenarios of the human condition and strange dreamlike figurations. Using layering to create depth, tonal qualities, and aged effects, he produces otherworld narrative moments with a delicate and detailed sense of atmosphere and transparency.
He currently resides in Miami, Florida, with his Mariana and his iguana. View more from Osvaldo at www.pixelium-art.com.
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Apex parting shot
Dear Diary
by Sara Genge
Dear Diary,
The ministers returned today. It was like last year, trumpets and screaming, but this time they haven't killed anyone yet. Mom didn't let me watch when they burnt Aunt Helen at the stake, but the square stank like forever of burnt fat and old cheese.
Today, Mom called me into the house and told me to be quiet. Then she went into my room and took away my little god collection and smashed all the jars and took out the dead gods and burnt them in the fireplace. I screamed and kicked but she wouldn't stop. She said if the ministers found them we'd go up in smoke like Aunt Helen and that I should be a big girl and learn which things are important.
"You take after that good-for-nothing father of yours,” she said. I knew she was mightily pissed because she never talked about Dad.
She also wanted to burn you, dear Diary, but I hid you away. Mom gave me candy in exchange for my dead god collection, but I'm not going to forget, oh no.
Then she said she needed my help and sent me to the basement to hunt the little gods that live there and I said “Yeah, I'll do it, but I still hate you,” and she said, “Fine, whatever,” and laughed.
So I went to the basement and killed lots of gods because gods are mean and if the ministers come, the gods will tell them that Mom and I hunt and eat them. But there was a god who crawled into a crack and I couldn't get him. I tried and tried, but in the end I had to stuff a pillow into the crack so he wouldn't get out. After the ministers go away, I'm gonna drag him out with a stick and he'll be the first god of my new collection.
Now I've come to get you and I'm sitting in the basement writing all of this down.
The doorbell is ringing.
Dear Diary, wait a second. The basement window is too high for me, but if I get up on that chair I think I can see who's calling.
It's a minister! He's wearing those horrible black clothes. Mom opens the door. They talk. Now the minister puts his hand up Mom's skirt and she lets him, which is totally unfair since she hit me once when she caught me showing Tommy my knickers.
The minister kisses her (ew!). Good, he's going away.
Oh no! The little god has run out of the house. I turn around. There's a hole in the pillow. He must have gnawed through. Dratted beasties! The minister lifts him up to his ear. The little god is ratting, I know. They walk up to Mom. I think the minister is going to hit her! No, he doesn't hit her. They're kissing some more. Yuck! Now he puts his hand on her tit, throws down the god and stomps on it.
I don't understand. I thought ministers and gods liked each other.
Mom waves at the minister and he leaves. She's coming inside. I'm going to hide you again in case she wants to hug me or something. She always wants to cuddle when the ministers come to town.
I hope she doesn't want to kiss me, though. I don't ever want to kiss her. She has minister cooties.
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Sara Genge is a doctor in Madrid, Spain. She writes speculative fiction aided and abetted by a coven of friends and female relatives. Her work has appeared in Strange Horizons, Helix SF, Cosmos Magazine, and others, including translations in Greek and Czech. She has stories forthcoming in Asimov's and Weird Tales.
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