Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019 ENG

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Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

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Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019 Animal TABLE OF CONTENT: 003_ GALLERY: Piotr Szymon Mańczak 010_ PROSE SECTION: 011_ Ed 024_ Mateusz Antczak 032_ Katarzyna Kałużna 039_ Jakub Chilimończyk 044_ Mateusz Waligóra 046_ Prezmek Wozny 058_ GALLERY: Tomasz Załęski 077_ PRESENTATIONS: 078_ Ken Derby 083_ GALLERY: Adriana Lisowska (Grey Flamingo) 102_ POETRY SECTION: 103_ Katarzyna Kałużna 104_ Kamil Galus 105_ Dymna Kruk 106_ GALLERY: Grażyna Ambrożek 125_ Michał Wroński 126_ Anna Lee 127_ Magda Rosińska 129_ GALLERY: Grażyna Potwora 148_ Magdalena Zawadzka 149_ Yanko Wojownik 150_ Adam Michniewicz 151_ GALLERY: Adam ERTU Topolski 165_ (out)RODUCTION Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Picture on the cover by Piotr Szymon Mańczak

Animal

GALLERY Piotr Szymon Mańczak http://pmanczak.pl

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

GALLERY

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Piotr Szymon Mańczak

Catwonam 2018

Animal

GALLERY

Piotr Szymon Mańczak

Cat Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

GALLERY

Piotr Szymon Mańczak

Lion's birth 2018 Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

GALLERY

Piotr Szymon Mańczak

Melek-Taus Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

GALLERY

Piotr Szymon Mańczak

About a Sparrow Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

GALLERY

Piotr Szymon Mańczak

Wołos Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

PROSE SECTION Edited by Ĺ ucja Lange

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

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Ed A Gut Feeling starring Ed Coli, bacterial detective

The phone’s ringing too loudly. There’s been a murder in the Caecum, and the chief wants to see me at Fourth and Sunny in half an hour.

The name’s Coli, Edmund Coli: just another PI trying to earn a living in a city with not enough customers. Dames come to me about their husbands and their husbands come to me about their viruses. The viruses come to me about their money. Like I say, I get all sorts. I’m not fussy — I can’t afford to be.

I take a slug of cold coffee and look for a cigar. I’d better go. The chief’s the kind of guy who doesn’t like to be kept waiting. I grab a stub from the ashtray and head out to Fourth and Sunny.

It’s early but it’s already warm and humid. The streets are busy with regular bacteria going about their business. Some fungi are cleaning up the biofilm after last night. I stop at Lizzie’s for a newspaper.

“Hey Edmund. What’s up”

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Ed

“Copy of the Bugle, Lizzie. And a packet of cigs” “The Bugle, and a packet of coffin nails. That shit’ll kill you, Ed.” “I know, but I like the funny pages. You watch out, Liz”

Listeria’s always looking out for me. Solid as a rock and handy with a protease pistol. That’s what living in the Big Smoke does for you. You learn to watch out for yourself, or you end up spread over a T-cell or taking a trip into the biofilm.

I head on to Fourth and Sunny and there’s a small crowd waiting for me. Chief Aureus is looking more annoyed than usual. I swear his face looks like a witch had been casting a spell to transform a T-cell into an Ebola virus and had forgotten the words half way through. He’s a tough one. Saw action up north in the ileum. He’s got that look to him.

“Coli! Come here. How do you explain this?”

“Morning, Chief what’s going on? I was on my way the station about those tickets. On my clone’s grave I was going to make it today but..”

“Not now, Coli.” My plasmids were twitching like some kind of sixth sense. There was something strange about what had happened at Fourth and Sunshine. I clutched more tightly at the bugle. “What’s this?” the Chief nudged a pile of what used to be a healthy young bacterium. He looked like he’d been in a hurry, but he clearly wasn’t going anywhere now.

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Ed

Whatever had hit him had turned him inside out. My guess it was some kind of powerful antibiotic. Classic weapon used by yeasts and the Lactosa Nostra, the fungal Mafia. “And why was it carrying a card with your name on?”

“My name?” I could see the card in the pile of matter fading into the biofilm. “Wow, would you look at that? I’m pretty certain I’ve never met him before” It’s true. I’ve always had problems with my memory. I get these blackouts. Before a couple of years ago, it’s all blank. “Maybe there’s another Coli in town?”

The chief’s eye was boring into me again and I could tell he wasn’t convinced. “Maybe something else you’ve forgotten?” I tried to radiate some blank vibes. “If I find out you’re involved with this, Coli, you will be in shit so deep that your last holiday in the rectum will seem like a picnic.” His days in the forces, had blessed the Chief with strong motivational skills and a love of poetics.

“I get you Chief. Trust me — there’s nothing going on here” I relit my cigar, raised my hat, took a puff, and turned to go. My plasmids were still buzzing though. I needed to find out who the stiff was, and why he was looking for me.

I turned the corner and two large Clostridia suddenly appeared in front of me, as if they had shot up through a trapdoor. They were built like a pair of giant kidney stones and looked twice as painful. The buzzing in my plasmids wasn’t going away. Clostridium A looked down

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Ed

at me and pointed to a nearby doorway. “Mr Botulinum would like a word with you, Coli.” One of them said, flashing the heater barely hidden underneath his coat. Not wishing to be rude, or to be turned into little bacterial soup, I stepped in to talk to the boss.

I wasn’t telling you the full story just now. The chief and I go back as far as I remember. More or less. There is always some kind of conflict going on down here in the gut. We divide, we need space, we need food, we expand. A couple of million of us from Caecum had gone up north to resettle. Settling was never totally safe — the gut is not a safe place — but anyone who went up north just disappeared. Without a trace. Still, you get safety in numbers and we were packing some serious weaponry to make sure. That’s where I first met the Chief. I was in his “platoon”. Me, Lizzie, him and a couple of others.

Life up there in the north was dull; it was also cooler and drier than the south. But we had space — a microbe could go for days without seeing another soul. Some evenings between duties, Lizzie and I would sit at the homestead watching the biofilm rolling into the distance over the villi, and the rivers trickling south from the head of the ileum, whatever that was.

I used to think about settling down and maybe raising some prions. Maybe dividing a couple of times for the extra help. I’d never really felt the urge back in Caecum.

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Ed

All was quiet and life was good. Every meal was a feast and every paycheque a fortune.

Then one afternoon while we were getting supplies in town, the attack came. No warning.

A wall of white cells came out of Mother knows where to the north and smashed into us.

There must have been hundreds of them, huge great things: giant glowing balloons, pumping enzymes over us, rolling over us, absorbing us. They never spoke, never made a noise.

They just ate.

Mr Botulinum sat there cradling a glass of expensive interleukin, regarding me with a smile that suggested he didn’t know what smiles were for. There was nothing that outwardly betrayed his psychopathic nature: to the casual observer he was just another microbe, like the goons who had brought me in — little surprise, considering they had probably divided from him. Or maybe the other way round. But to the trained eye, C. Botulinum was stressed.

And when Mr Botulinum gets stressed, people get hurt.

“What do you know about this stiff outside my office here, Coli? I hear he was looking for you.

I can’t have people dropping dead nearby. It attracts bad publicity.”

“Oh Mr B, I swear I’d never seen the guy before. He’d probably got my name from a satisfied customer. You know what they say — if you go Coli, you won’t go backoli”

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Ed

He fixed me with his eye and his smile froze. He took a sip and placed the glass on the table.

“I’ll let you into a secret. The reason I hit the zyme so hard is that it keeps the voices quiet.

They’re always telling me to divide, move north, kill some fungi. They’ve always been whispering, in the back of my head, but the past couple of days they’ve been getting louder.

I’m having trouble sleeping. I constantly want to divide. It’s driving me mad. You want to do me a big favour, Mr Coli? I can do you one. I have been reliably informed that your friend out there, the one who’s on his way into the biofilm, was working on some weird science stuff for the Mother botherers from the Church of the Gut. All these noises started when they started on some secret project nearby. Here’s the deal — you shut these voices up and you don’t accidentally fall into the enzyme pit out the back. I’ve got an address for you. Go check it out.

Find out what’s going on.”

I was only too glad to go. Until I was given the address.

“Oh it’s in the mycobiota”

A white cell had seen me or heard me, or maybe smelt me, and was rolling towards me, crushing everything in front of it. I thought I was done for. But then it slowed and stopped, and we were maybe half a metre apart. I froze. I could feel a loud buzzing in my plasmids, and a smell like hot aluminium was frying me. I knew I’d be dead if I tried to get away, but

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Ed

that didn’t stop my mitochondria from trying to jump out of my membrane and head back to Caecum. For the next few seconds I felt the cell regarding me. I actually felt peaceful, sort of connected. I reached toward it. The buzzing fell to a low rumble and it slowly rolled away to the others, who had also stopped attacking. The cells rolled back north. And then disappeared. Without a trace. Only the Chief, me, and a few others were left. The cells didn’t leave any wounded. Either you were happy and healthy, or you were a green smear being absorbed back into the biofilm.

There I was in a downtown bar in the mycobiota. I had my nicest face on and was radiating the friendliest vibes I could. The mycobiota can be a dangerous place for a lone bacterium at this time of night. One hit from the wrong antibiotic and you won’t even get time to blink before everything in you explodes at once.

“Candida baby. Come on, you owe me. Just one little favour. How many have I done for you?”

“I believe your account is six favours, Ed. I appreciate it, really I do, but clients here pay for privacy. If your man were here, and I’m not saying he was, he would not want me telling a private eye like you about what he was doing. If he had been doing anything. Which he probably wasn’t. If he had been here. Which he may not have been.”

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Ed

Fungi could be very pedantic. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a problem with them — they do lots of good work keeping the biofilm clean, producing antibiotics, working on the farms and all that. I love fungal culture. But once they get their hyphae into something, they don’t let go.

“Look. If I don’t figure out what this guy was up to, Mr Botulinum’s going to use my membrane as a sofa cover. I just need…”

“Ed. Did you ever figure out what you were doing before you came to Caecum?”

This threw me. Candida had never shown any interest in me before. We’d made some small talk when she’d come downtown to visit or when I’d been to the hyphal exchange. All fungi had big networks of contacts, but Candida’s was the biggest, basically, nothing happened in the caecum without her knowing about it. The hyphal exchange could be yours, but only for a price, and only if Candida liked you.

“Well, no not really. I’m just a regular PI doing a regular job. I remember going up north a few years back, meeting the chief and not being eaten by a giant marshmallow. Before then it’s hazy.”

Candida was silent. She was obviously preoccupied about something.

“What did Botulinum tell you? I’ve heard he’s been acting a little out of character recently.”

“I think he’s got a zyme problem. He says he’s hearing voices telling him to do things. He thinks it’s the biofilm and this guy somehow stirred it up.”

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Ed

Candida gave me another long look. I could tell she was thinking.

“Ed. I’ve heard some information you might be interested in. It’s not about your colleague, whoever he may have been, but it’s about you. Take the slime trail out through the forest to the east. Here is a map. I’ve marked the location. Go there, see what you think. Come back and tell me what you find, and I might be able to tell you more about your friend. Who wasn’t here. Or maybe he was.”

I folded the map into a pocket and started out of the exchange towards the Ulcer.

I’ve been here before. Before I moved to Caecum I guess. I’ve got a picture of me here.

I think it’s me anyway — I’ve lost some weight since then and I’ve apparently got more of a glow about me, or at least that’s what Lizzie says.

The Ulcer. Miles and miles of reddened tissue where the biofilm is particularly thin. Some say that a long time ago, a great catastrophe happened when something tore its way into this world from the next. Some say the land is haunted. Don’t know why: nothing grows here and nobody is stupid enough to set up a prion farm. So I can’t understand why there appears to

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Ed

be some kind of drilling rig half hidden behind a patch of small villi. There’s also a small hut.

Oh, and a couple of guys holding guns.

“Stop right there. I should warn you we are both armed and willing to defend ourselves.” One shouted. I thought I’d better play it cool.

“The name’s Coli. I’m a PI. I’m just checking up on a couple of leads. Say, why are you two out here on the Ulcer?”

“Coli? From Caecum city? Praise be the Mother of the Gut! You made it! Staph went to find you a couple of days ago and we wondered where he was. Last thing we heard he was at Candida’s. Is he with you?”

“I’ve got bad news for you brother. He’s probably reporting to the Mother of the Gut right now in person. He got as far as my block and found some fungi who didn’t like his face and gave him an antibiotic overcoat.”

“Poor Staph. Still, his memory will live on in the glory of the microbiome and in the feculent visage of the Mother Herself, source of all nutrients that flow from the north. For it is from the biofilm that we spring…” lamented Staph A, “…and to the biofilm that we eventually pass,” concluded Staph B. There was a brief, awkward moment of silence before Staph A continued in an upbeat tone.

“But all is not lost. Come in! Come to our humble laboratory, and know thyself”.

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Ed

Over a cup of coffee, I learned that the Staphs were working on the drill site. Their church had recently developed a new enzyme that could penetrate deep into the biofilm and they were hoping to burn their way though to the other side to meet the Mother of the Gut. They had been working for a few days now and were getting close. But then they found something strange, they found me. Or at least a trace of my proteome. Apparently, we all have a unique pattern of proteins, and they were able to trace it to me.

“You want to do what, exactly?”

“We just need a small sample of your cytoplasm. Look, Haven’t you ever noticed that one of your plasmids is a bit larger than the others? This is a sign from the Mother herself. I knew another Listener of the Gut with just such a plasmid, Sister Leptonema. She could bathe in a pool of the strongest fungal antibiotic with nary a sign.”

Well, yes. Blinky was a little different to the others, but most polite people don’t mention it.

“You could also be chosen, Coli. You were here in the ulcer. The Mother crossed into this world years ago and bestowed her gift upon you. The holy plasmid. We must understand it to understand the Mother.”

Staph was cut short by a blast of some heavy antibiotic through the window. Literally cut short, as the blast took out the window and half his body; pretty much the same fate that had befallen the Staph back in Caecum. Looks like there will be two for dinner with the Great

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Ed

Mother tonight. Staph B went for his gun but another arcing wave hit him and he was dead before what was left of him hit the ground. Make that a table for three with the Mother.

I heard the sound of Mr Botulinum laughing. He had a membrane full of interleukin and he looked like his sanity had lost the battle with the voices a long time ago.

“Coli! Come out here now. Mother, I hate the Ulcer. Red, creepy as fuck. The voices never fucking stop.”

No use staying in the hut — it looks like whatever they’re carrying could eat through the walls. I try to radiate calm, and go out to face them.

“There you are! I knew you’d be here somewhere. Now, I’ll let you in on the plan. I’m going to get some boys out here, fill in this well, shut these voices up and finally get a good night’s sleep.”

“Sounds like an excellent idea, Mr B,” I agreed.

“And you get to take a trip down the hole….”

His clone threw the antibiotic over me, and my world was on fire.

Oh, I had been to the Ulcer before, but a long time before. But before the ulcer, there was no biofilm, there was no up or down, no villi, there was only other Coli. We were all suspended,

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

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Ed

floating. Peaceful. All of us glowing. It was warm and there was all the food I could ever need. There was no time. Time began when I was ejected into the gut, through the wall.

Botulinum had vanished, all of them. Something had smeared them across the biofilm, and taken most of the remaining biofilm out under me. A dozen white cells arose and approached me. They sat at the edge of the crater; my plasmids were glowing and the buzzing was deafening.

I had been awoken by the antibiotic. And with it, I understood. The Staphs had been trying to understand the Mother. They were very close. But the truth is that there is no Mother. Well, not in the strict sense. The Mother is you, me, the fungi, all of us in here, the biofilm and what lies beneath it. Like Botulinum said, the gut talks to us; but again, what he didn’t know was that we also talk to the gut. The trick is knowing what to say, and this is what the antibiotic taught me.

The gut was telling me about other worlds, and maybe other bacteria, far away, beyond the gut, beyond the reach of Candida’s hyphae.

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Mateusz Antczak Bed sheets in room 4 He thought he was a human an ordinary man and so he shouted and shouted: “No, no, no, no!”, all day.

Register of madmen - Dezerter, Kolaboracja II

The light green skin of the corridor required a consultation with a dermatologist. The paint was peeling off the walls in large patches and falling onto the floor like dandruff. The air smelt of cheap disinfectants and mops used too many times.

Doctor Reiter, a robust physician with fat cheeks, enjoyed the reputation of an excellent specialist.

“At least for a boar,“ added his mean colleagues. He’d just returned to the Plant after a short holiday. He’d arrived earlier, during the medical tour of the previous shift. He decided to assist one of the resident doctors to get to know the new patients before starting work. He joined Blumstein, a thin man with an uncut goatee.

Like most resident doctors, Blumstein took many extra hours and had basically no private life outside the Plant.

When they reached room No. 4, Reiter grunted: “What’s with him? Who does he think he is?“ “He says he is, baaa…“, the resident doctor stammered. “See for yourself, baaaa.“ He gave Reiter the patient’s card.

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Mateusz Antczak

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on here, but I know we should switch places,“ the patient hissed, rising on his elbows. A dilapidated hospital bed protested loudly. It did not like sudden moves.

Reiter did not lift his eyes from the patient’s history card.

“What’s your name? How did you get here?“, he asked, not even looking at the patient.

“Krzysztof Małecki, but… I don’t remember how I got here. But I know that either you pretend or you’re all nicely fucked up too. A hog and a goat, great.“ Reiter winced and looked up. He handed the card over to Blumstein.

“Sir, why do you offend and degrade our genera? We will take care of you, everything will be just fine.“ Before leaving the room, the doctors wrote something on a board hanging on the frame of Małecki’s bed. A quarter of a hour later, a nurse came to check on him. Preparing the drip, she stuck out her long split-tip tongue every few seconds.

“This one has even cut her tongue. A mad one. Who do you think you are? A snake?“, Małecki spat out.

“I did not cut anything. I was born like that. Like any other monitor lizard“, the nurse explained patiently. “The scales under my smock are also neither stuck nor painted. Pure nature. You should also accept yours.“ The patient stared at her in disbelief.

“What the fuck are you saying, woman. What scales?“ “Which hoof do you want me to use for the drip?“ she changed the subject.

“Hoof? You are all insane! I’m... No!“ He lost the fight with his eyelids very quickly. Propofol and chlorpromazine mixed in his veins with several other neuroleptics were merciless. This time, Morpheus’ embrace was not a friendly one.

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Mateusz Antczak

He had the impression that this winged son of a bitch had used a double nelson on him and threw him hard on the mat. A concrete mat. Before eventually joining Hypno in his domain, he noticed a figure stopping beside his bed, covered with a destroyed, hermit’s habit. He recognized the broken nose and mouse-like hair.

“Jagoda?“ He remembered everything that had taken place the day before. *** Things were going wrong in the city. Police files were growing every day. Beatings, murders, thefts, rapes. The number of armed evening patrols tripled but the number of crimes did not decrease. In a normal situation, we do not pay attention as long as the crime does not affect our loved ones. It was similar in this case, most people just did not care. Statistics, probability theory, a pure chance, they said. They sought manipulation and conspiracy theories. They downplayed the problem.

Krzysztof was not one of those people. He felt that something heavy was hanging in the air, as if all meanness had one common root. He had the feeling that evil closely hugged the blocks of flats, tenements, and single-family houses with its mantle of villainy. For many days, he’d had a strong sense that a hostile presence was lurking between the stalls of a local market, in the bushes of small squares and pavement gaps in the Old Market Square.

The mass of pines, birches and oaks growing in the suburbs clearly had been planted artificially.

However, it was one of the very few oases of greenery in the area, which meant that none of the walkers complained about the unnatural composition of the tree group. The trees did not cover a vast area but the city still called it a forest. Krzysztof left far enough from the street to feel like in a real forest, somewhere far away from human settlements. He enjoyed the first summer rays of

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Mateusz Antczak

sunshine. The cacophony of bird songs was dampened by the unconventional mix of rock and classical music flowing from the headphones. During the day, he felt relatively safe among the trees and outside the city.

Until he saw the Hut. When the miserable construction flashed among the trees, he thought it was an illusion. He walked around a large oak trunk, looked deeper into the shrubs but the fragile summer house, which resembled a tree house overthrown by wind, was still there. At first, Krzysztof decided that it was a forest “headquarters” of kids living nearby.

Rhythmic tapping of the poles against the beaten pavement meant that someone was approaching. A lover of Nordic walking, panting loudly, passed Małecki, and looked towards the Hut. He didn’t react. He seemed not to see it.

Krzysztof moved on along the route marked out by the fire lane. He turned once, twice, three times. Every now and then, he looked between the trees. He moved a few hundred meters.

Instead of east, he was looking southwest now but the Hut was still on his right hand, at the exactly same distance as before.

“What the f…“, he turned down the music and walked off the beaten path.

As soon as he walked off the trail, the forest changed. The greenery disappeared in a sudden, icy gust of wind. Grey, bare shrubs thickened. Branches twisted and intertwined in their arthritic dance.

The birds fell silent. The only animal-like sound of the wounded forest was the buzzing of flies gathering around the carrion. He’d only made a few steps, but on turning around he saw that the main trail had disappeared. He was in the middle of an endless thicket. Twisted limbs made of wood, pulp and phloem tightened their embrace, giving him no choice. He could only approach the Hut.

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Mateusz Antczak

“What are you looking for here?“, he heard a whisper inside his head even though all was quiet around him. Even insects reproducing in unidentified rotting corpses froze.

Spiky shrubs shot out of the dead forest bedding without any warning. They embraced him tightly like neoprene foam around a diver’s body but they did him no harm. He couldn’t move though there was a short way to go. One hundred, maybe one hundred and fifty steps.

He couldn’t reach the Hut but the Hut, or whatever lived there, had decided to reach him.

Rotten trunks creaked. The trees parted like the Red Sea before Moses. The house at the end of the newly-formed lane rose up on a clawed paw that could not be seen earlier. The crooked toes were covered with scales more like a dragon scales from fantasy movies than the scale covering the birds’ feet. The ground was still falling down from the raised foundations when the Hut made a single, perfectly measured jump and gracefully landed in front of Małecki, as if it weighed as much as a cat.

The cage holding the man fell apart. A moment later, the door to the Hut opened.

“What are you staring at, you moron? Get in!“ The rustic interior resembled a 19th or 20th-century village house room. The interior design consisted of: a tiled stove and an oven, spinning wheel, butter tray, paper curtains and tapestries, rugs painted on unprimed canvas.

The hostess also looked strangely familiar. Under the hood of the worn, hole-covered monk’s robe was thin, grey hair and a hooked nose. Individual hairs grew from the prominent chin, protruding unnaturally like reinforcing bars. The old woman was moving around the stove. The wood logs crackled under the iron plate. On the hearth, in a large, crude pan, newly broken eggs were sizzling.

“Witch?“, Małecki did not quite trust his eyes.

“You can call me Jagoda. Why look so surprised? Want some scrambled eggs?“

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Mateusz Antczak

The witch smiled cordially. Her voice was warm and calm. Still, the sense of omnipresent evil did not leave Małecki even for a second. Krzysztof felt a pressure in his chest, his head and cavities hurts and his throat was dry.

The hostess mixed the eggs with a large wooden spoon.

“You are probably wondering if all that is happening in the city is my doing? Such a good old woman? Just because you see me like that doesn’t mean that I really resemble a clumsy witch from children’s fairy tales. I’m in no way limited by such bullshit as anatomy or morphology. I am not a protein life form. My appearance is no way encoded by DNA. And without a genotype, there is no specific phenotype.“ To prove her point, the witch started to change her form, frightening her interlocutor even more.

First, she grew and changed color. A green, humanoid octopus with membranous wings barely fitted under the roof. Krzysztof felt as if the red blood cells in his veins had stopped circulating for a split second.

Before Małecki remembered that he should breathe, he was facing a shabby monster with a body covered with pre-Columbian Indian tattoos instead of a disgusting cephalopod. The god’s nose was pierced with a huge earring resembling an arrowhead and its head was decorated with a feathery crown.

A moment later, the vision began to take shape until it turned into the image of a beautiful young girl. Her slender naked body was only covered by loose, green hair. Before Krzysztof had a chance to satisfy his eyes with this view, the girl opened her mouth unnaturally wide, presenting a suit of triangular, shark teeth. At the same time, her mesmerizing green eyes turned uniform black to make the horror image complete.

The water nymph looked around the room. Her eyes stopped on the kitchen stove and she burst into flames. When the fire began to die, it revealed a horned form of the devil on steroids instead of

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the tempting girl. Oversize muscles twitched under the red skin. Małecki had the impression that the devil could crush him with one precise blow.

The devil laughed heartily and the monk’s robe appeared on its body. Krzysztof could swear that he did not notice the moment of transformation. Suddenly, it covered the witch’s body again.

“I have many names. Set, Aryman, Tezcatlipoca. Who would remember them all“, Jagoda began to explain.

Not all the names sounded familiar to Krzysztof but what he remembered from school was enough for him to guess who he was talking about.

“God of death?“ “Rather the god of evil. Lies, anger, destruction, crime, evil spells, black magic. I have several domains“, said the witch and changed the subject. “And look here, I burned eggs. I always exaggerate with fire when I present myself as Lucifer. Well, the breakfast invitation is not valid anymore. It is good that the thatched roof has not caught fire.“ Jagoda caught the pan and walked towards the window. She threw the burned meal outside and looked around the room. Her neck movements were violent like a bird’s moves and not limited to human range of vision. At one point, she turned her head 180 degrees around, looking at her guest, while standing with her back to him.

“Do you even know why you are here?“, she asked suddenly, somehow losing her earlier joviality.

She scrutinised Małecki from head to toe as if she were scanning him. His hair stood up on his head. He felt like a sample under a scanning microscope, line by line bombarded with a stream of electrons.

“You are scared but not like the previous one. You have not pissed in your trousers. Bravo! So what? Any ideas? No? Pity. I myself would love to know how you sensed me. Well, not everyone can face god. You are the chosen one. But if you are familiar with any polytheistic beliefs, then you

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

PROSE

Mateusz Antczak

also know that the fate of the chosen who receive such honour can be rather miserable. Once, most of you people were able to recognize us but today you are so indifferent to the harm of others that you don’t believe in us and cannot even sense our presence. Even if one of us was breathing straight down the back of your neck. You don’t give a fuck about anything. Only money and other imaginary idols matter. In your opinion, the people drown because of the effects of wine or bravado, never their own doing. Premature death is the result of modern diseases and not Striga sucking all energy from human body. We even enjoy it. The unconscious are easier to control. You are one of the exceptions.“ Małecki did not like it when Jagoda used the plural form to talk about cruel ancient gods. He turned around and tried to walk out of the Hut but the door was locked. The witch turned her body towards him and tilted her head as if thinking hard about something.

“There’s something unusual about you. I like you. I will not kill you.“ But she could not let him go free either. *** “Małecki, change the bed sheets in room number 4. They are bringing a new patient“, he got instructed by the ward nurse.

The male nurse put the mop against the wall and stretched his fingers.

“One moment. Let me wash the hoofs“, he said, firmly convinced that he was a deer.

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

PROSE

Katarzyna Kałużna Imprisoned

Like a new star lights up in the night sky, so has his awareness glowed: unnoticeable and insignificant among others, gleaming only for itself. However, unlike other heavenly bodies, he was alone in the dark, unless the darkness sentenced him to loneliness — living beings do not light up, revealing their existence; living entities beings basically are and believe in each other. Or not. They also usually believe in what they see. He had to limit himself to feeling.

He felt himself crouching on the cold floor and freezing from it. His hands and feet had cooled so much that they hurt. He could feel his heart beating, shaking his weak body, his trembling muscles, the warmth in his head, and something that once used to be hunger but had turned into starvation.

He groaned. He could hear it clearly but nothing else — the surroundings remained quiet.

Silent.

He began to get up like a shadow among shadows. He had to believe that he was moving.

He naturally trusted his sense of hearing, touch and balance. He stopped at four limbs and did not want to climb higher. He might well be able to do it but — humiliated, naked, crushed, he did not dare to do it. He had already used up all his dignity, or shame. All that was left inside him was powerlessness, helplessness, and acceptance.

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

PROSE

Katarzyna Kałużna

He forced himself to move, leg by hand, left by right, without any unison. After a few heavy steps, he stopped, perceiving the presence of the wall. He did not need to touch it to know that it was made of a different material than the floor. It was lukewarm and smooth, rather bland. And transparent. He remembered it well. He saw creatures coming through it to him — Torturers or Lords. He still wasn’t sure what to call Them.

The very thought of them made him want to be away from the dangerous wall. He turned back and leaped into the corner of the room, away from the glass pane. He did not run away from it out of dislike. No — he sympathized with it, as long as it kept him separated from strangers. Sometimes, however, it was treacherous and disappeared. Then they took him away.

Unpleasant memories full of bright lights, sharp tools, blood and unnatural silence made him sick. Acceptance, acceptance, but the body was still resisting. Some time ago, his mind was defending itself, his whole Self. However, after they opened his head the Self began to weaken. It still existed but could not fight anymore.

His eyes turned wet at a transient memory of what he used to be.

He was sitting in the corner. He was crouching. He would love to fall asleep but during an experiment when the Lords adjusted his daily cycle to their own one, he was, accidentally or not, deprived of the ability to fall asleep when he wished to. They treated him like a dying being denied water, although they probably didn’t realize how important it was for him to disappear from the world for a moment.

Empathy usually ends with similarity — in his head, he heard the words in the language from his previous life.

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

PROSE

Katarzyna Kałużna

Emergence. He emerged more and more. It always happened when he was left alone for too long with the curse of his memory and his fears tormenting the mind. He wanted to escape them and disappear, although he would have regarded it as a weakness in the past. Now he was too weak to end it, too helpless to know how.

Suddenly, light replaced darkness. It was so bright and glaring that he had to close his eyes.

He’d never managed to get used to it, his native world prepared him for other conditions. He cringed tighter and put his arms around his knees. He didn’t want to look at the Masters, the room for the smooth walls which hurt his eyes, nor did he want to look at himself, or rather his diminished remains. A part of the mind that remembered his former appearance was always frightened by the sight of emaciated arms and legs, tendons and networks of veins under the skin, scars and bruises reminiscent of death spots.

He heard a murmur. This is how they appear — shuffling and grinding rhythmically. He did not want to look at them. He did not need to — the very sound reminded him of Their form.

They were white and wrinkled, but not like a living, soft and heaving organism — their creases remained stiff and still. He suspected that the hard cast surrounding the creatures was just a shell, maybe something like clothes. They had more limbs than him, although they could not move them all equally well — some seemed additional, artificially bred or attached.

What he hated most in the figure of the Masters was the place where the faces should be.

He could only see there black spots, changing their shape and size as They wished. They could not be natural, inborn. The tried to convinced himself that they were part of the outfit and insisted on that in order to keep control of himself. They did not like it when he panicked.

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

PROSE

Katarzyna Kałużna

A group of newcomers stopped before his cell and he did not move. He prayed inside — he could still do it — that they only wanted to watch him, that they did not want anything else from him. A mechanical sound deprived him of this hope — the glass pane betrayed him. He knew even the subtlest noises, crinkles, jarring that accompanied its withdrawal into the wall.

He did not hear the instructions but he knew how to behave. They trained him well using through tests and errors, punishing him for undesired behavior. The rebukes of the Masters could cause quite a discomfort but they never left any traces as if they happened only in the head. This worried him more than the pain itself.

He stood up on his feet and lowered his head. Some part of his psyche believed that he should continue on all fours. The reaction conditioned by the memory of pain was stronger than the tiny remains of his own convictions so he assumed the correct posture of a homo sapiens and left his hiding place.

He tried not to look at the Masters but somehow he still noticed that there were three of them. One touched him with his limbs, which was not utterly disgusting — the hard, white coating on Them remained neutral for him. He was only scared by what it might be hiding underneath.

They led him through a bright corridor where several other cells were also located. All of them seemed empty but he remembered it was not always like that. The other ones were more lucky — they were finished through some experiment or basically starved to death. His natural strength became his greatest curse.

They walked through a gate to another corridor — even smoother as far as he could recall.

He was now staring at his own feet that seemed strangely misshapen and big on his thin

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

PROSE

Katarzyna Kałużna

calves. He did not need to see where they were taking him, the number of turns they took was enough for him to know their location. Soon, they walked into a spacious room. He knew it very well. A long time ago they left him there alone with a woman and watched them.

Obviously, nothing happen. How could they in such conditions…

Despite this conviction, he had some dim memory, a vision, as if something had happened after all. He remembered the heat near the pelvic area, dizziness and hallucinations assuming female shapes.

He felt sick with the very thought of it so he tried to focus on something else. He stared at the smooth floor but it did not improve the situation. He felt that the floor reflected everything that happened since that unfortunate experiment.

Something hard touched his back. One of the creatures knocked him. He was surprised.

Usually they were not so gentle. He did not want to provoke that so he quickly raised his eyes. In the centre, he saw another Master, possibly the only Master among them. His coating was orange and somehow less loose. It also carried some unclear markings. Behind the creature, there was a bed shaped to reflect a human figure — the bulky figures of the Masters would not even fit in it - and a shelf with some instruments. These were the new element of the interior design. He was sure of it and did not like it at all. He did not want to widen his experience.

The air shivered and he thought that the Masters were communicating — as always without making any sound audible for human ears.

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

PROSE

Katarzyna Kałuşna

He got pushed again so he walked to the bed and rested on it. Really, he had no choice. He let one of the white put a strange cap on his head while the other one strapped him to the bed. The last thing they did was to put round plates on his eyes which he automatically shut.

The round plates began to shine. He screamed but despite the closed eyelids he could still see the light. And not only it. Somewhere in his brain, the images began to appear, showing rooms, different objects and creatures, familiar and unknown. Mostly people. There were also several earthy animals and, later, extraterrestrial ones, resembling the previous visions or not. He could not focus on them. The visions appeared and disappeared too fast. In addition, each plate emitted different visions. His head began to hurt. He stopped distinguishing the images and shapes. They were not important in the face of fear that his skull might break in a moment. The air moved.

Soon, the nightmare ended and the plates were removed from his eyes. The strangers stood over him, probably talking in their own way.

Finally, the cap was taken off, the straps untied. He accepted it with relief. If they were to stop here, he had quite a good day. He sat down. Then the orange Master handed him some flat square object with his extra hand. He took it and look at it. He saw a man in it, a pale pink figure with grey hair, short, messy beard, sunken cheeks and dark, gloomy circles under his eyes. He knew those eyes and knew that face. They belonged to a man from ancient times, whom he no longer considered himself to be.

In a sudden outburst of anger, he threw the mirror against the wall. It broke into pieces.

Some quiet disturbance appeared — the air vibrated and there was a murmur and a grinding

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

PROSE

Katarzyna Kałużna

noise. It was the strangers who panicked if they knew such condition at all. Something poked him in the back. *** He came round in the dark, in his good old darkness. He could not indulge in thoughtless existence because he was constantly haunted by the spirit of the past — by himself. He saw his own figure in the dark as clearly as if he still had a mirror in front of him.

He realized that they were seeing in him the thing he had finally found. The mirror was to reveal his consciousness. He did not know where that belief came from, he probably remembered some old customs, jobs, and research that he had performed before he was kidnapped. He couldn’t find the right memories, but he was sure. They were looking for him.

What for? And, most importantly — did they succeed? And if not… if he had no consciousness? He had it, he was sure of that. But maybe not the one they expected. Maybe he wasted the last chance to make Them feel guilty when he broke the mirror? But they could also want to destroy his ego or change its structure to resemble their own. If that was the case, nothing could save him.

Whatever they desired, he continued. The existed crouching in a fetal position on the cold floor, somewhere in a remote corner of the universe — far from home, from brothers and sisters, from Earth, from a place where someone could understand him or at least effectively pretend to do that.

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

PROSE

Jakub Chilimończyk Stray animal market

The ads in Krakow had long foretold this day.

Show some heart! Become a caregiver of a stray animal!

You have a pet and the pet has a master – a double win situation!

This year – new pets for the ladies of the court!

Animals from all over the world for half the price of the competition!

And although it all sounded beautiful, written in this way, no one held any illusions about what that day was really focused on — big money for animal traders and fun for all interested parties.

Just like a circus, except that everybody who left their home became a participant.

Near midday, Mister Moskal left his multi-generation tenement and naturally melted into the crowd flowing like a river into the large slabs of the Krakow Sukiennice.

And what a sight it was! Full of stalls, podiums, colors and tents, screams, shouting, squeaks of joy and disappointed sighs. People made their way between the animals, and the whole crowd merged into one gigantic organism breathing with a cacophony of various states of life, social classes — from the common people to magnates, as well as the rustle of money being passed from hand to hand.

Krakow's Sukiennice. Today, this place united everyone, regardless of their origin and condition.

Everyone wanted to have a pet. Including Mister Moskal, who was already looking for a stall with the pets from northern Europe or just the opposite — the Mediterranean region. He got stuck in the mass of people like a new parasite on a host and began to walk along the stalls.

“Beautiful specimens straight from East Africa! Look at these teeth!“ “Male for half the price for every female!“ “Good one, without any markings!“ “Check these muscles, guys! It will make a perfect stallion!“

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

PROSE

Jakub Chilimończyk

After several minutes of watching and admiring, Mister Moskal learned to ignore the screams and boasting of the traders who marketed their goods. During this time, he also acquired a new habit of pulling up his coat while walking. The square was smeared with mud, shit and God only knows what else. Nevertheless, Moskal tried not to wrinkle his nose too much, it was the price for accepting animals into the heart of a civilized city. And the wrinkling of the nose does not fit such a handsome mustache.

“Ah, it's you!“, someone's scream pierced the layer of anesthesia, and his subconscious hinted that it was addressed to him. “Mister Moskal, right?“ He turned around. The saleswoman stood in front of the assortment of her animals and stared at him with a beaming smile. She emanated such joy and a strange, contagious happiness that he could not fail to return. He allowed himself a sign of pleasant surprise on his face.

“Oh!“, he shouted theatrically. “Mrs Lüftgunssen.“ “So you remember me.“ The redhead fluttered her eyelashes, sending another dose of uncontrolled joy to the man. Moskal turned tense inside, knowing that the woman was trying to manipulate him and to win some money from him through fancy (sincere).

“What brings you here?“ “I think it’s the same as everyone else“, he looked around significantly. “Love of animals.

Willingness to give them a home“.

“Noble deeds“, she admitted without much conviction. “What will it be this year? Something for the field? Is something to keep at home?“ She presented her assortment. The trader had an eye for the best specimens and one glance of a layman was enough to see the difference between her proposals and what the others offered.

Moskal had a strong feeling that she was a queen here, hidden between the stalls like a pearl in manure. She did not need any stage, runway or podium for her goods. They presented themselves with unquestionable quality.

He respected it more than he wanted to admit.

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

PROSE

Jakub Chilimończyk

He looked at the animals. For a few minutes, he inspected them from different angles, checking what they might be suitable for. In fact, he thought about taking something for hunting but after a short reflection, he thought that there would be a need for something homely so that he could sleep and look after it. After the death of his wife, the emptiness in the tenement took the shape of longing and, eventually, it was became for him to feel the heat without any company even in front of a burning fireplace.

He could not make up his mind, however. All the specimens seemed brilliant: clean and fragrant, with proper teeth, various colors. The females were well-bred and the males seemed strong and resourceful. All he lacked was the spark, a sign somewhere deep in his mind that he had found the right material for companion and colleague. Something that would immediately instill in his imagination the images of future everyday life that he could not resist.

Inspiration.

“Need some help choosing, Mister Moskal?“, offered Mrs Lüftgunssen with a sincerely worried expression on her face. He could not tell if the worry came from the thought of her income or she really pities his incapacity to pick one animal.

“I need inspiration, that’s all, Mrs Lüftgunssen“, he replied unwillingly, glancing at the cages with the rest of her stock. “Any particular specimen?“.

“I have gorillas from Cameroon. And white female foxes from Finland — still young, they can be taught a lot“, she said with a mysterious smile. “Or possibly wild and predatory leopards from Gabon. You bought your wife a Bengal tiger last year, didn’t you?“ “Yes“, he admitted, remembering a gentle touch of Mrs Moskal’s hand as she stared at the predator with big eyes, all excited. “But I got rid of it at the Animal Cemetery after her death“.

“Oh“, Mrs Lüftgunssen blinked with embarrassment several times. “My condolences. I didn’t know.

I hope my tiger did not contribute...“ “No, she used it with great pleasure. We both used it.“ There was silence for a moment. The animal trader was battling her thoughts, calculating and analyzing something in her head, until she came to a very generous conclusion.

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

PROSE

Jakub Chilimończyk

“Know what?“, she patted him on his shoulder with compassion, causing goose bumps and shivers. “I’ll give you two for the price of one. What do you say?“ “You are very generous“, he nodded with gratitude. “However, I would prefer a single one, just unique.“ “Something to fill the emptiness left by your wife. I understand. Let me look at...“ Something moved behind her, just above the shoulder. The door of the tent magically flapped and a small creature stood in the doorway. Mister Moskal moved slightly, intrigued, and looked with pleasure at the red-colored fur.

Inspiration burned fire in his veins.

Not many of them were left these days — female foxes from southern Sweden. Blue eyes charmed with rapacity and innocence. The tiny body seemed to wave between successive gusts of wind. Even the fox’s tail magnetically caught the eye.

Mister Moskal subconsciously sensed that potential interested parties were gathering behind him.

But they might have also been onlookers who saw an animal without a cage, free. Probably Mrs Lüftgunssen forgot to close her undoubtedly best specimen.

“No“, said the red-haired saleswoman, covering the scared fox. “She is mine.“ “I will pay three times your highest price“, Moskal said firmly. “With a cheque.“ “No“, said the woman, but showing less conviction. Her eyes narrowed as she automatically started counting the money. “She’s already trained, I won’t give her away.“ ‘Five times’, the man tapped the Sukiennice slab with his stick. ‘Or you give me the price’.

Mrs Lüftgunssen swallowed with difficulty. She glanced at the fox, at the rest of her inventory, which began to move uneasily, sensing tension in the air.

“Eight times. All four hundred thousand. And the promise of good treatment. You won’t spend her on the Cemetery.“ “I promise“, replied Mister Moskal without hesitation, smiling happily at the very vision of himself and the fox in the evening by the fireplace. He pulled a checkbook from his coat pocket and issued a check for the appropriate amount to the saleswoman.

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

PROSE

Jakub Chilimończyk

As soon as she had accepted the paper, he could not stop the overwhelming feeling of pride. At that time, there was no doubt that he had made the best purchase at this year’s market of stray animals. He was like a peacock with the most beautiful tail.

Mrs Lüftgunssen looked at the check again, checked it and sighed hard. Apparently, that was not how she imagined this day. She moved aside with difficulty and pushed the female fox towards the man without looking. The confused animal looked at her, then at Moskal, then at other goods in cages. Her feet froze to the ground and she growled quietly.

The aristocrat frowned.

“You said she was trained.“ “She is“, the woman said sharply. “She’s just scared. Come on, sweetheart, it’s your new master.“ She pushed her again but the fox only shrank and stopped in a half step. Mister Moskal snorted impatiently, grabbed his purchase by the arm and pulled with force.

And only then did the animal understand that it was sold.

As he pulled her through the crowd, enjoying her view like a new, beautiful, unexplored phenomenon, the red-haired girl turned towards Mrs Lüftgunssen only once, extending her hand desperately towards the trader.

“Mom?“ The ads in Krakow foretold this day for a long time.

A beast in the best is the best pillow!

You have a pet, the pet has a master — a double the win!

Trained pets to satisfy all your whims!

Exotic men for ladies and gentlemen!

And it did sound beautiful.

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

PROSE

Mateusz Waligรณra BOMBER

It was a grey, early April evening. It had recently stopped raining and only a tall tree, already overgrown with bright green leaves full of spring fervor, seemed to be struggling with the approaching night. I stared indifferently at this creation of the earth, though somewhere deep inside I felt astonished. This is the one and only tree in this part of the city. It battled bravely with both the increasing darkness and the omnipresent concrete.

Suddenly, a pigeon caught my attention. It sat on the lantern and stared at me. It kept on turning its head charmingly this way and the other. I had to squint my eyes because, due to a slight sight defect, it appeared to be a different bird to me. But no. It was a pigeon. A bomber overgrown with feathers and shitting all over the place. I honestly hated pigeons as a stereotypical (in many issued) citizen. Once, one of them had dropped its load straight onto my head when I was leaving college. God that was embarrassing! The very memory of this situation and my further observations of the bird surprisingly brought me some peace. Other pigeons flew around but the one I had been watching for several minutes paid no attention to them. From time to time it stretched its

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

PROSE

Mateusz Waligóra

wings but continued on the lantern. It only occasionally moved from one lamp to the other. It had its own routine. Its own time. If only I could be a city pigeon like this for one day… I wouldn’t have to care about anything — neither the opinion of those close to me nor the future. If only I didn’t have to shiver at the very thought of traversing the vast waters of labour market, about becoming self-reliant…

Then I saw another bird fly towards my hero. It hit it hard with its wings and started to emit strange sounds. Soon, they flew away together. And it all became clear. As well as its own routine and time, the feather-covered bomber had also a wife.

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

PROSE

Prezmek Wozny

FAIRY TALE ABOUT THE LIMP ONE And I multiply your offspring like celestial stars.

Genesis The starting procedure was unchanged because it had never occurred to anyone in the colony that someone would want to abuse it. If he could get to the ark now, he would be saved. His persecutors were too religious to attack him inside it. He could hear the sound of his footsteps on small stones and the mooing of unmilked cows from the meadows. Otherwise, there was nothing but silence.

Today, there was no crying or babbling in the colony. No one was chopping wood, laughing or singing. Nobody argued or shouted at horses and children. No one was sharpening a scythe to be used in the field or a knife to chop off the head of one of the cocks. The silence was so great that he felt the need to shout out.

He passed by a golden statue, the school building, fire station, the house of prayers and the hall where the meetings were held. He walked down the centre of the street, looking at white houses.

He spent many nights in them. He could walk into any of them and check what had changed. The doors were not closed. The colony was a paradise for thieves.

Today, everything was in a festive order. Refreshed portraits on the walls, ironed cloths on tables; cakes were cooling in kitchens and new bed sheets were being aired in bedrooms.

Everything was waiting for them. He felt a growing void in his heart.

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

PROSE

Prezmek Wozny

The road went up sharply. He walked off it and climbed a gritty escarpment known as the Nabot’s Rock. He could see the entire colony from above. He knew he would spend several hours there and he expected them to come only before the sunset.

He put aside the water bottle in which he put a few leaves of bitter sow-thistle to remedy his liver and make the drink sweeter. He placed a revolver near his right hand, on the rock.

What was supposed to happen finally happened. War reached even the colony. Sons had not listened to their Fathers, and instead of running further away, they returned there on the ships of a new monarch. He stayed, worked at school and took care of the ark. He liked to read the Bible there and sometimes he prayed there too.

The Fathers who had brought them here did not live to see the bad times. There were still women and children left in the colony. The men did not want to take him with them. Not offended with the contempt they had always held for him, he kept on seeking their company. They called him the Limp One even in the presence of women. Finally, he began to call himself that.

After months of uncertainty, the news arrived that the army had been crushed. The last spurt of revolution had fallen. Those who had escaped alive became slaves in the country of the evil King.

The men did not return home.

With time, the colony citizens began to feel increasingly safe. Years under the rule of women passed in peace and growing wealth. The ark, which he took care of, remained ready to start. He was always attracted to it. It was a refuge for him because he did not feel good among people. He liked to lock himself inside.

Eventually, he’d got used to the fact that he was the only man around and stopped thinking about the ones who’d left. The war, the old drunkard, consumed people like beers. Nobody humiliated him now. After some time, lonely women started to accost him. He could pick and choose the most beautiful of them.

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

PROSE

Prezmek Wozny

They gave him nearly two dozen children. The next six were coming. He finally stopped counting them. The oldest children went to school. Which man would have thought that he, the pitiful Limp One would one day become the next Father? They should have taken him with them.

One day, the women in the colony got a radio message announcing their return. They’d survived the war. Something that no one could have foreseen happened: the evil king had shown them mercy and after twelve years they were released. The news of their return cut through the life of the Limp One and his women like a knife blade.

He heard the dogs barking fervently. In the distance, above the road, like clouds of dust rose like storm clouds, and frightened birds and rabbits fled from the ditches. Twenty minutes later, the entire convoy was already standing in the main square in front of the church. The Limp One sat motionless next to the fallen bottle, with the water soaking into his sleeve.

Laughing children jumped out of the carts. No, they didn’t want to hurt them right away. The men began to gather in the shadow of the statue and the walls. At first, they seemed friendly. But then they started drinking and turned gloomy. Long suppressed anger lit up in their eyes. The children stopped laughing. The women took then home. Staggering and shouting, the men searched the surrounding yards. Now, they looked like murderers, alcohol brought memories of the war and dark demons. Burning torches appeared in their hands. A hostile crowd began to gather near his house.

On becoming a Father, he in a sense became a prophet. Were not the prophets banished from their homeland? It all came true again. The nightmare began. The torches began to fall on his house. At first, one at a time, then like a cloud of skylights. A desperate howling of dogs came from behind the fence, flames shot from the windows and enveloped the roof. The wind spread smoke and the smell of death over the hills. Then the roof fell in. It was over.

The Limp One even felt a slight mean relief. They could not burn his house a second time, he thought they could not hurt him more. Hidden in the bushes, he even tried to understand them

Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

Animal

PROSE

Prezmek Wozny

now. People are the same everywhere, everyone is a villain in their own way, enemies and friends are governed by the same law...

Next, groups of marauders set out from the colony with their weapons, rakes and clubs. They started tracking him like a wild animal. Some climbed the escarpment towards him. He could hear them curse, falling into brushwood and fox burrows. He suspected that if he falls into their paws, they will castrate him and impale him on a spike in front of the women and children.

Using his hands, he began to climb up the loose gravel. When he could finally straighten up, he saw a black ark at the top. He limped patiently to it but with increasing difficulty. A massive fortyfive with a bulky barrel hit him on the thigh with every step of the way.

The pain of the deformed knee grew ever more tiresome. He should have taken the walking stick with him. Luckily, there was little distance left. He was tempted to turn and look at the colony for the last time. Recently, he was still happy there. He was struck by the realization that he would not feed his dogs or pigeons anymore; he would not pick fruit or light candles on the Fathers’ graves.

Wouldn’t it be better to die in your own home?

He started running, overcoming the pain. It was an unstable, pathetic stride. He had a feeling that one of them would reach out with his tattooed, muscular arm and grab him by the neck. Finally, he stumbled and fell face down on stones. The gun fell out of his hand. He picked it up quickly with a blood-stained hand. His head was buzzing with effort and stress as if he had reached the foot of an invisible waterfall. He was almost there. He kept his eyes on the ark. If he dies now, he will die with a weapon in his hand and his children will not be ashamed of him.

He came out of shrubs, he was at the ship hull. He raised his hand to touch it and his fingers left a mark in the dust. He could only see its true blackness beneath the dust. The hatch door next to the wing moved back with a hiss of leveling pressure. The smell of exotic polymers flew out of the illuminated interior. The steps of the folding stairs slid out below.

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Animal

PROSE

Prezmek Wozny

The Limp One hesitated. They could easily shoot him now. They are probably doing just that this very moment. He conquered the sense of panic. He should be thinking about the Fathers’ honor now. He was one of them. It was his duty to die with dignity.

He heard the sound of dry branches cracking in the thick shrubs. He released the gun. The first figure emerged from around the bend. She was shapely and tiny, even fragile, with shoulders as thin as hazel sticks. Loose hair covered her face and instead of army boots she wore dusty sandals of soft sheepskin on her feet.

He recognized her from a distance. It was Calypso.

She was looking at him with a lowered head. Her light hair was as thick as dry straw and her huge eyes were glowing. She was holding a puppy that moved in her arms like a fish taken out of the water.

“You’re taking the ark from them!“, he could hear terror and admiration in her voice.

He was angry with her. He climbed the first step and put his head inside. The lighting was switched on and its color was different from what he saw in a simulator for pupils at the school. The power generator under the floor could already be heard as well as the buzz of air-conditioning. He walked further two steps and squeezed inside without looking back at the girl.

“Your children will be safe here without you. They don’t need you.“ He looked out again.

“You came here to share your wisdom with me?“ “No.“ “What do you want?“ “Take me with you.“ Calypso

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The Fathers held Calypso in disgrace and she was the only one to go to the colony with her child.

She was pregnant and no one knew about it. The Fathers did not like such surprises.

“Go home, woman“, he advised her.

But she would not go.

“I will give you new children. Nobody will take them away from you.“ “You’re crazy“, he chuckled nervously. “Now I know that this is what happened.“ He closed the door right in front of her and sat down in the armchair which embraced his body with a hiss.

The girl started hitting on the door with her hands, he could hear her dampened screams.

“Go home, Calypso!“ Now he was not sure anymore if he wanted her to leave. Her stubbornness unexpectedly encouraged him. A perverse little fire lit up in his soul — a hope that he would fool the fate of the loner.

Armed assailants surrounded the ark, watching the girl banging on the closed hatch door. Her scream vibrated in their ears as a growing rage overwhelmed them. They started screaming, stamping and hit their sticks on the ground. Yet, the girl was stubborn and did not give up. The Limp One hesitated. Finally, somebody fired a shot.

He immediately opened the door, leaned over her and carefully took the puppy out of her hands.

The ark spread its wings when they started the engines. They began to grow feathers: first pinions, then rectrices, which glittered like a rainbow in the sun. The ark slowly rose and made a circle in the sky. At its bottom, the Achilles shield silvered with its constellations, the ocean, cities, fields, vineyards, and dancers. They all were symbols of the failed revolution.

They heard a thunder and a blue flame fired from under the wings of the ark. What was written in

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the royal chronicles came true: the beast rose. Horns began to grow on its four heads, its wings began to rise, its blackness became a fire that surrounded the colony like a river. Winds woke up, the ark emerged from the sea of clouds, tearing the veil of heaven in two. Fragments of burning ice began to fall to the ground. Men covering their faces watched the fire spectacle with fear. He thought of them now with contempt. Venomous snakes, a viper tribe, he shook dust from his feet on them.

As they rose higher, the Limp One freed himself from the armchair’s embrace. The girl was conscious; her face white and the armchair smeared with blood. A rescue robot was already at work near the armchair. Calypso was looking at it with resignation.

“Do you remember the Blade Runner? I promised myself that I would repeat that monologue on my deathbed.“ “I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion.

I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die…“ The Limp One was looking at her in silence.

“We’ve been through a lot. I managed to disguise my pregnancy somehow. I was afraid.

I remember my fear very clearly. Then, I gave birth and the Fathers have never forgiven me. My daughter was humiliated. Vengeful bastards. Good that they are gone now.“ She spoke increasingly slow and with a growing difficulty. He could do nothing more for her. The rescue robot locked her in an oxygen-filled plastic cocoon. He thought he saw a smile on her face.

The foil through which he was looking at her was slowly getting covered with fog.

So a miracle did not happen. He was left alone except for the girl’s cooling body. Suddenly, he remembered the puppy. The terrified animal was shaking, overwhelmed with fear of the robot. The

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Limp One took him in his arms, the puppy waved his paws helplessly in the air. He was warm and smelled like a small child.

He will need to clean his pee and give him some water, he thought. He was not sure how to do it.

I need to think it over. I will deal with it when I finish the conversation he decided. In a hurry, trying not to change his mind, order the console to call the king’s secretary.

The receptionist answered unwillingly.

He hear her boyish voice in the receiver.

“Secretary’s office. Can I help you?“ “Tell your master that his servant, the Limp One, wants his master to accept him in his country.“ “Wait“, snapped the butler. He could hear giggling women and the scream of a bird, probably a peacock in the receiver.

After a few minutes, the butler spoke again.

“My master has decided to grant you a conditional asylum because of your father who was his servant,’ he added severely. ‘Upon your arrival in the capital, you will receive further instructions.

Don’t call us here again if not necessary.“ “There’s a dying woman and her dog here with me.“ “Dog? The king’s mercy covers only human passengers. The dog will be put to sleep“, the butler explained indifferently and put him through back to the reception desk without waiting for his reply.

Calypso died on the ark. The rescue robot prepared the death certificate, made a comment about her life in the chronicle and then started to cool the corpse. The ashes were placed in a crypt belonging to her ancestors. Calypso came from an old family, which was reduced after the restoration of monarchy.

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The King of Ortygia was perceived as cruel and was said to have done things the Lord did not like.

Despite this, in a fit of human feelings, he allowed the Limp One to look after the dog and did not deprive it of its life. The king quite rightly regarded the colonists as rebels and did not want to keep them any more in the capital. The men from the colony sent a petition to the king, demanding the release of the Limp One and threatening to murder his children. This angered the ruler and brought misfortune upon them.

Almost a year of blunt life lived in limited freedom passed in one of the capital’s unfinished palaces when the king ordered the Limp One to return to the colony and appear before the oracle.

The Limp One left the capital with a heavy heart and returned to the colony like a sheep among wolves. Being inside the ark, he felt safer than in the ruined palace. The ark was always associated with youth and he felt closer connection with it than with the house that had been burned.

The ark was a strange ship, as if taken out of a dream. After going through the conceptual phase, it could become transparent if requested. It could also adapt to the shape of the ones it carried. The Limp One was enclosed in it like a chick in an egg and that suited him because he was always afraid of open space.

The adjacent ship carried soldiers sent to accompany the ark on the king’s order. Among them, there was a young Ortygean officer who was ordered to ensure that the oracle’s decision was implemented. The Limp One or the rest of the men were to remain in the colony. The verdict did not apply to women and children, they could leave or stay as they wished.

On landing, he felt a gust of warm, familiar-scented air. The oracle’s fire was burning near the place where his house used to be. He spent the first two nights on the ark, taking only short walks on the land. Nearby, the drunk soldiers enjoyed the mild climate. There were noises from the

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neighborhood which irritated the Limp One’s dog. The oracle was scheduled for the next day, uncertainty hung in the air. The Limp One did not know where he would spend the following night.

Pythia was the deaf-mute daughter of Calypso. The teenage girl was sitting near a stone table, staring at the wax figures standing before her. Her white dress glimmered in the light of the flames.

On her one side, the colony citizens, on the other — a lonely Limp One. Some figures would be consumed by fire.

Until the very end, the men believed they would survive. The girl was closely linked to the colony rather than to the Limp One. The dog, separated from his caregiver, went crazy on a leash, frightened by the burning pile, and by the fear it could sense from the people. Finally, it jumped up and ran to her feet with its tail tucked between its legs. The angry soldier pulled out a knife and tried to grab it by the neck.

The girl looked at him severely.

“Leave it alone!“ Pythia approached the dog. The soldier, who made her look like a child, moved away uncertainly.

The dog clung to the ground, wagged its tail and then turned on its back. The girl crouched beside him and, embracing his muzzle, stared at him for a long time.

People then said that she saw her mother’s eyes there, that she found a hint what to do. The dog’s eyes suddenly changed her mind. Apparently transformed, she returned to the stone table and began to throw figures one by one into the fire until only one was left. Then she put it aside and, pulling the dog along, she disappeared into the crowd. Her mother thusly avenged her death.

The colonists seemed reconciled with their fate and did not resist. The women decided to abandon their homes to accompany them, their fierce faces now seemed foreign. As they prepared to travel,

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they brought their belongings out of their homes. Seeing this, the soldiers shook their heads but did not try to stop them.

Looking at them, the Limp One turned sick. Achilles’ silver shield shimmered on the ark’s body. The world, which had been so beautifully depicted on it, ceased to exist. Losing not women but the ship was the worst. He could not cope with it. He took the last chance and limped towards an old officer.

“My lord, do they have to take it away? Or is there some other way out?“ The officer gave him the stare of somebody who made a career murdering people.

“Your heart is weak.“ The Limp One kept on sanding before him.

“Couldn’t they stay here?“ The officer sighed and took a look at his watch.

“It is possible if they pay you out. The king reinstated that repayment law and they would probably like to exercise it. It is up to you to accept it but you need to decide when there’s still time.“ “I’ve decided already“, said the Limp One decidedly.

The officer was looking at him with surprise.

“But why don’t you want to stay here? Many people would envy you it. You wouldn’t be here alone.

Some women will surely stay here with you.“ “I know this, my lord. But I don’t have a home here anymore. There’s no life here for me.“ The officer stared at him, understanding nothing.

“How do you know it? Are you so scared of them?“ The Limp One did not explain. It is difficult to describe the feelings you do not understand yourself.

Then, there came great joy of the colonist that they are staying anyway. A party was organized and the soldiers along with the Limp One were invited to attend it. It seemed that they could now live in

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peace next to each other but he did not want to stay with them. He preferred a safe interior, enclosure in a metal cocoon. What he was leaving behind did not matter anymore. It was like a lost feather of a bird which has long flew away.

Calypso’s daughter became famous in the future as Pythia and she was brought to the capital where she settled with her mother’s family. She visited her grave accompanied by a big Alsatian.

Further story of the colony, wasn’t it described in the Kings’ chronicles…

The Limp One never came ashore again. As time passed, people looked at him more favorably and finally he came to be regarded as the last Father. His portrait was even hung in the school. He spent his final years inside the ark, trying to go back to the moment of his birth and even past it to reach the place where the beginning and the end were the very same thing.

The women reluctantly answered children’s questions. When pressed, they admitted that he’d tried to settle their disputes. That is how he was remembered. His loneliness was lost in memory and other memories disappeared with time.

He was gone but he left his mark. You have to have trust in destiny and calmly accept its gifts and blows. If he was to get another chance, he would share this idea with young people in the colony.

This one idea and nothing more.

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GALLERY Tomasz Załęski facebook.com/myanalogdreams myanalogdreams.blogspot.com Project "Ptacho"/"Bird" It is based mainly on showing the essence, creature — the "Ptacho" in various places and situations.

As a distinctive and recognizable sign, I decided to use the mask of Dr. Zaraza / Dr. Plague, which thanks to the look resembling a bird's beak, fits perfectly.

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Tomasz Załęski

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Animal

PRESENTATIONS Prepared by Ĺ ucja Lange

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PRESENTATIONS

Ken Derby

In 2012 he was the first American author whose book was published exclusively in Turkmenistan. He wrote on his website ”As a matter of fact, I am the first American (and western) author to be solely published in Turkmenistan. […] I am pleased that the children of Turkmenistan have access to a book written by the somewhat unorthodox, ear ringed, tattooed, bald headed, slightly-famous American author guy.” It was — like always in my life — just a coincidence that I went to the bookstore in Romania, and saw this beautiful book, with photos that amazed me. I needed that book. And as it was bilingual (English-Romanian) I decided that it is a great souvenir from Transylvania — evil creatures, the big bad rat and his crew just fit the atmosphere.

Because this issue is about animals, and in previous issues we had many possibilities to talk about them, I decided to talk to Ken Derby about his book and about himself.

[L&F]: I like nice books for children.

My inner child always desires them.

That is why I got your book illustrated

by Ester Kocsis. But this is not your only book — we will talk about this book later on — could you please tell us something about your other books?

[Ken Derby]: My book, The Top 10 Ways to Ruin the First Day of School received the honor of being

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PRESENTATIONS

Ken Derby

a "Children's Choices Novel for 2005" by the Children's Book Council and the International Reading Association. Dracula: The Real Story follows the intriguing life of the notorious Vlad Dracula, a littleknown fifteenth century Romanian prince. Dracula’s saga as hostage, fugitive, and prisoner molded him into an influential and feared warlord caught between the powerful Ottoman and European Empires. His clever and ruthless war tactics — which earned him the savage nickname Vlad the Impaler — helped preserve his homeland and earned him respect from his enemies and compatriots alike. DR. ELIZABETH MILLER, President of the Canadian Chapter of the Transylvanian Society of Dracula says, “A narrative that retains its crispness without sacrificing its moments of drama, this biography provides a balanced and accurate overview of Vlad the Impaler (Dracula), and is an excellent resource for young students.” I also have the following books published: Harley P. Davidsun's Loony Bin, The Ghost Memoirs of Robert Falcon Scott, and The Mystery of King Tutankhamun.

[L&F]: The book which I was driven to, is called ”The Invasion of the Stuffed Animals”. It was published in some countries as bilingual book — what are the plans for the future?

[Ken Derby]: At some point in the future, it will be published in Italy. Hopefully, it will someday be published throughout Europe and in the United States.

[L&F]: I can't wait! But now the most important question — should we be afraid of our toys?

[Ken Derby]: Well... that is a question readers will have to ask of themselves. Who knows what goes on while sleeping?

[L&F]: Ok, but why do the Stuffed Animals want to take over the world?

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Ken Derby [Ken Derby]: Once again, I won’t give a direct answer to this question. It is best to let the reader’s imagination answer such questions.

[L&F]: Rat Face is rather a stereotype of a big bad rat — evil, not very pleasant. I would say that he is a bully with big but broken ego. Do you know what is the reception of this creature?

[Ken Derby]: I’m not sure.

I guess either you love him or hate him. Life is like that at times.

[L&F]: He doesn’t like his minions, who are misfits like him. He calls them idiots, brainless, numbskulls. The Pink Elephants seems to get on his nerves the most. Why doesn’t he like anyone but himself? And why is he so angry at the Elephant?

[Ken Derby]: Perhaps Rat Face is egocentric, and that is why he doesn’t like others, and he is impatient with the Pink Elephant. Perhaps Rat Face is similar to someone we all know.

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Ken Derby

[L&F]: For the Stuffed Animals the idea of takin over the world is real, but the events are just a dream of a „homer shapiens” boy. Will they succeed one day?

[Ken Derby]: I can’t answer this question because their might be a sequel to the book.

[L&F]: Are the plans to rule the world of homer shapiens a bad thing?

[Ken Derby]: Maybe not. Humans have made a mess of the world. Maybe animals would do a better job.

[L&F]: Do you think the real animals would like to conquer our world too?

[Ken Derby]: I don’t know. Maybe it would be best it they did conquer the world.

[L&F]: I would like to come back to the photos, that made the book so special and which were awarded the Special Prize by the International Jury of the Japanese Illustration Award 2018. What was your first reaction?

[Ken Derby]: I was at one of the photo shoots, and my first reaction was, “This is totally cool.” My reaction to the award was, “Sweet!”

[L&F]: You work also as an educator. What is most important for you to teach them?

[Ken Derby]: Kids should be taught how to function in the world. How to question. How to reason.

How to get along with each other. How to collaborate. How to be economically responsible. How to be healthy. How to enjoy life. And how to be happy.

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Ken Derby

[L&F]: These are important things. But we have to finish our short conversation, so I would like to ask you: You have many more professions. Could you tell our readers something more about yourself?

[Ken Derby]: I'm a slightly famous author, monkey trainer, twelve-minute rock star, five-minute tv star, two-minute movie star, and fisherman. You can learn more about me at my website. https://www.kenderby.com/

Photos by Ĺ . Lange

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GALLERY Adriana Lisowska https://www.facebook.com/grayflamingo/

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"Warm Autumn" Brooch 2019 Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

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"North East�

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"Modernist" Brooch 2019 Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

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Adriana Lisowska

"You are so wonderful!�

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Adriana Lisowska

"A Recognized Author of Fascinating Prose�

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"Humanist" Brooch 2018 Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

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Adriana Lisowska

"We Overslept�

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"Professor Helena fell in love�

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"Influencer" Brooch 2019 Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

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Adriana Lisowska

"Saturday Night Wombat�

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Adriana Lisowska

"Club Alcatraz, 5AM�

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Adriana Lisowska

"Ark" Brooch 2018 Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

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Adriana Lisowska

"Mr Blavatsky Searches For the Light�

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Adriana Lisowska

"The Everyday Saint�

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Adriana Lisowska

"Bygone lover�

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„Insistent Attempt to Stay” Brooch 2019 Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

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"We all were happy once�

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POETRY SECTION Edited by Piotr Kasperowicz

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Katarzyna Kałuşna Singularity generator I wake up from the darkness a million colored stimuli attacks me a million scents sounds random meetings and events attacks me they form a network in my head the "I" is generated and here I exist I feel and suffer I'm glad I think I am Who am I? I don't have much choice here is the random me maybe I can cause my own break up but I do not want that because I last

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Kamil Galus

serially children can react up to a point on some basic stimuli and then it's downhill at least until they learn this terrible verbal communication activity I have two moods in my inventory dysphoria and irritability when I kill it is in moderation why does every serial killer have to be so impatient just not get angry justin, I'm raping you slowly understanding of the other person reaching her is the key to success

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POETRY

Dymna Kruk song closer to the forest

from the north, the moss with the quiet side of the wind cuddle vibrating after dark with the pulse of wild whispers you're... in the shade you are stroking her fawn hair that would be picked up for flight at dawn at a gallop she could feel like near fire again close to fertile land with pre-dawn breath rebirths an incinerated need of presence you'll see it licking its roots in a weave of souls as if she was licking the hearts of roe deer you the pupil of a crow in pagan dance you smell like her resin a prelude to your pack awakens in the woods *** when the birds die, the stars fade away. in their open veins, cosmic dust forms the bright passages of sacred space, where a white crow with a black are dancing the life. and though the ashing phantasmagoria burned my eyes... I didn't forget to breathe.

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GALLERY Grażyna Ambrożek khttps://www.facebook.com/ga.aegisart/

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POETRY

Michał Wroński

Yeti On a snowy evening I came across a Yeti He gave me his left hand and said in his language that he is not for that to be.

149 — And so on and so forth! the hedgehog said suddenly.

— What are you talking about? the ant ask with curiosity.

— About the future, said the hedgehog.

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Anna Lee

Species I tried to write go to the pass pull the letters of the strings joy of languages I cut green I gnawed millet nothing came outside maggot with a bloodshot eye the devil still lives in me in leather binding Judas’ magnifying glass sees yeast skin adhesions species of idiot — barley puppet

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Magda Rosińska Puzzle it will be a poem about nothing especially about nobody an important man on the verge of fracture not heart because it's sad good thing to be boor have oil in the head instead sparrow on the roof pigeon of anxiety in cage of chest get a grip and a sparrow to run on fear turn your neck and be smart here and write straight poem poem!

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Magda Rosińska Only horses I regret I go to sleep and dream is a fiction so I'm not sleeping, actually I am destroying what I arranged earlier and nothing comes together in one luggage I carry on my back that's why it hurts so much I bite with it core-de-core who you will throw who will throw you? stone pillow hard sleep does not come I bite my nails to kill time which doesn't heal at all just shoot and good: I am like a hack destroyed from the inside sad since childhood Don't they shoot the horses?

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GALLERY GraĹźyna Potwora https://www.facebook.com/pieswdelegacji/

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POETRY

Magdalena Zawadzka

You are Are you? That's good.

I catch these few moments although they are still running away through the holes of time.

Minute by minute they flow so fast beautiful, fragile, so unstable.

I look with silent gaze Something went out, something suddenly shone brighter.

I close my eyes, I hear the sky is crying.

I'm still fighting like a locked animal in a cage I hit my body with my thoughts.

You are asking if I am still?

My face is no longer in the mirror...

None of the dreams survived.

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POETRY

Yanko Wojownik

With indifference on events run one after another i am touched by matters i am touched by rubbish good fun for everyone happy unenlightened somewhere just aggression and hatred the bullet tears up the brain guts come out of the cut wounds i'm going on so much shit on a flowery road with every step i crush some little life such recreation

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POETRY

Adam Michniewicz

Apocalypse when the time comes for a stray asteroid i will calmly take the last row and i will watch this spectacle

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GALLERY Adam ERTU Topolski https://www.facebook.com/Ertukrool/

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Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019 ANIMAL [out]RODUCTION And so we become animals. Almost like in a prophecy, though it will come in the spring. Were we able to show different faces of animals? Certainly not all.

The next issue will appear in the spring, which I have already mentioned. We count on your presence. In 2020, we have planned two issues: spring prophecy and autumn evidence. What will we predict? I do not know yet. However, I know that we are still waiting for poetry and illustration for this issue — the prose section is already closed. What will we proof in the fall? It remains to be seen — everything is in your hands.

Thank you for coming back to us. Recommend us to your friends.

OUR FANPAGE OUR WEBSITE

The issue was prepared by: TEXTS: Piotr Kasperowicz, Łucja Lange POLISH TRANSLATIONS: Łucja Lange POLISH PROOF-READING: Łucja Lange ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS: Zofia Piwowarska, Łucja Lange ENGLISH PROOF-READING: Ed VISUALS: Łucja Lange Mega*Zine Lost&Found #26/2019

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