Plugs

David Kopaska-Merkel’s book of humorous noir fiction based on nursery rhymes, Nursery Rhyme Noir 978-09821068-3-9, is sold at the Genre Mall. Other new books include The zSimian Transcript (Cyberwizard Productions) and Brushfires (Sams Dot Publishing).

Read Rudi’s story “Detail from a Painting by Hieronymus Bosch” at Behind the Wainscot.

Sara Genge’s story “Godtouched” may be found in Strange Horizons.

Alex Dally MacFarlane’s story “The Devonshire Arms” is available online at Clarkesworld.

Ibis Rises

by Daniel Braum

After a lunch of chicken tikka masala and palek paneer washed down with the most fragrant rose lassies from that little red place on Bank Street, Maia and Jocelyn were walking to the bus stop heading back to their dorm. Jocelyn, having grown up in Brissy, paid the sticky heat and everything else no mind. Maia was quite happy not to be in the London winter and was taking in the Jacarandas and cute houses on stilts when she spotted an elegant white bird. It rummaged through the trash with its long, hooked, black beak, dwarfing the pigeons poking around alongside it.

“Wow, what’s that?” Maia asked.

“You mean the Ibis, love?” Jocelyn said.

The word Ibis conjured images of ancient Egypt into Maia’s head.

“I’ve never seen one before,” she said.

“We have birds from all over.”

“Ha. This is the closest I’ve been to Egypt.”

Powered by Maia’s focus and belief the Ibis’s attention shifted from picking apart the rubbish bags.

Where am I? Where are the pharaohs, it thought. These buildings are not the glorious works of Thoth. This river is not the Nile.

Filled with god-consciousness, the Ibis lifted its head, sensing how the energy of world had changed since it last manifested and letting knowledge flow into it.

So many new mysteries to learn. Such great wonders to uncover. To protect.

The Ibis noticed Maia and Jocelyn watching. It gave a little squawk and thought,
All this time and their kind is still just stuck in the muck.

Then it craned its head higher.

I sense so many seekers, so many yearning to worshippers, just waiting for me to rise and lead them. I shall start by-

Maia looked away, her attention caught by a big Jacaranda near the bridge over the Brisbane River.

“Can I take your picture, Joce? Its so lovely,” Maia said.

“Yeah, they’re in full bloom this time of year, doll.”

With the power of her focus and belief gone, the god-aspect faded from the Ibis. The bird went back to picking garbage as if nothing had happened, while Maia snapped a picture of Jocelyn under the purple Jacaranda.

-END-

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