The Forge - Fall 2020

Fall 2020 | Volume II

George Mason University’s only Speculattive Fiction literary magazine.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Microfiction What Will You Do at the End ofthe World? by J. Mauceri..................... 7 Carla by Alex Wright................................................................................... 10 The Rabbit by Arman Analoeui................................................................... 13 Fishing by Alex Wright................................................................................ 15 Return by Joseph Mauceri............................................................................ 17 Lucian the Lionhearted by Alex Wright..................................................... 18 Reaper by Joseph Mauceri............................................................................ 20 The Hunter by Alex Wright......................................................................... 23

Short Stories Straight Outta Roswell by Eli Vandegrift.................................................. 26 An Unlikely Alliance by Victoria Mendoza................................................ 29 Loup Garou by Victoria Mendoza.............................................................. 34 Adrift Alone by Joseph Mauceri.................................................................. 41

Poetry The Kindly One by Julie Tran..................................................................... 44 Ophelia by Julie Tran................................................................................... 47 List of Sickly Horses by Julie Tran............................................................ 48

Coloring Page.................................................................................. 50 Submit to our magazine at:

theforgegmu@gmail.com

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The Forge

INTRODUCTION

Fall 2020

Letter to the Reader This is your Captain speaking:

H

ere we are. We got to issue two because of the love of our readers, our hard working and dedicated staff, and the generosity of our advertisers. We couldn’t

do it without you all, and we sincerely appreciate all of the individuals who talked about The Forge in some way to their friends, professors, peers, and many more.

In this issue, we follow the same formula as the last, except this time, we have fantastic artwork for almost every story provided by our amazing artists that you’ll see accredited on the staff list. We have wonderful stories about terrifying monsters, giant, airships, and alien invasions. We also have poems written by our talented and extremely dedicated poet Julie Tran that capture the same magical mystery that were present in last year’s issue.

As for plans for the future, we are planning on creating an e-issue of The Forge under a new name sometime in the next few months. When it will come out is another mystery, but please follow us on social media to see more updates about The Forge, our events, and about our incredible staff !

So that’s it. We’ve thanked you, we’ve given you some updates, and now you’re all ready to delve deep into the dungeons of creativity and wonder.

All of the great, grandiose tales that lie within the pages of this magazine were created in the swallowing, ever-burning fires of...

The Forge.

— Ethan H. Reynolds, Editor-in-Chief

INTRODUCTION The Forge

Our Beloved Staff EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

Ethan H. Reynolds MANAGING EDITOR

Victoria Mendoza EXECUTIVE EDITOR

Arman Analouei ART DIRECTOR / COVER ARTIST

James Gray ARTISTS

Norbert Barrion Donna Tran STAFF WRITERS

Victoria Mendoza Alex Wright Joseph Mauceri Eli Vandegrift EDITORS

Emma Starustka Julie Tran Peter Eccleston Carolyn Klein Bryan Christman

Fall 2020

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MICROFICTION The Forge

Fall 2020

WHAT WILL YOU DO AT THE END OF THE WORLD? By: Joseph Mauceri

LUCIFER OF LIGHT

H

and his smile disappeared, replaced by a look of sorrow and regret. Golden tears

e ascended into the heavens.

began to fall from his eyes. He muttered

Speeding. Speeding. Faster than

only one word; “Please…”

the eye could see. Faster than light. The

The indescribably perfect being

Morningstar had returned. No man in

reached out their hand to the former devil.

Heaven could stop his ascent. He flew

The tears of sorrow in the Angel’s eyes

through the clouds, stormed through the

being replaced by tears of glee. He took a

gates, and straight into the temple. He finally

hold of God’s hand and was accepted back

halted, bowing right at the feet of God.

into his home.

All the Angels surrounding him, preparing to strike. Not one was

THE SECOND CIRCLE OF HELL

unprepared to end his existence. They murmured, shouted, and wailed at the

Back and forth, back and forth.

most beautiful of them all. His black

Nothing was more boring than watching

wings fluttered behind him. Despite his

the lustful get thrown back and forth all

bowed head, the Angels present could still

day long. The Succubus yawned while

sense a smile coming from the traitor.

relaxing in her chair.

He raised his head, staring upon the visage of the almighty being before him,

It used to be fun. Watching all of these sinners, unable to find rest for all

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eternity, but after a few millennia of the

Fall 2020

I Don’t Deserve This

same thing, day after day, it started to get boring. She’d much rather be out and

“I don’t deserve this.”

about. Seducing men and women. Being

The priest thought over and over again

the reason they were forever tormented.

Watching their torment then would be so

in his head. Every day and every night.

“What did I do wrong? I served God

much more satisfying. But no. Since the

devoutly and righteously.” His body was

End, there had been no new meat. No one

weak from all the running. Demons could

new for her to torment. No reason for her

always smell a sinner.

to ever leave.

“I wonder if they’re hiring upstairs…”

And at that, a brilliant idea came to her

“I don’t deserve this.”

“But I think you know that you do.”

The priest stopped trudging along

mind. She spread her black, leathery

the ruined Earth as he heard a voice that

wings, and flew.

wasn’t his own invade his mind.

She flew past the tossed about souls of her home, over the Earth, now a haven of nothing but misery, and continued all

“No. I always followed God’s teaching.

I was righteous and true.”

“If you really were righteous you

the way until she reached the Gates of

would have stayed away from all those

Heaven. Two Angels stopped her, aiming

kids.”

their spears towards her chest. The Demon stepped back but steeled her nerves. “I’d like to become an Angel please.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. They came to me.”

“Not for what you gave them.”

The two Angels looked at each other, then back to the Succubus. The Gates

THE NEW KING OF HELL

of Heaven opened to her, and she flew through them with glee.

What a wonderful day this was. The

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shrieks of the sinners from all Nine

“Of course, I left after all. Besides, a

Circles of Hell rang throughout the

Demon of Wrath would be the perfect

throne room of the new king. It was like

leader of Hell during the War of

music to his ears. A symphony of pain and

Armageddon.”

suffering. And he had God to thank for his new charges.

The old king may not have particularly enjoyed the torment of sinners, but the

The new king smiled, a feeling of glee welling up inside of him. “I’m looking forward to it.”

The Renewed Angel disappeared in

new king did. He fed off of it, he needed

a second flash of light. The king leaned

it. After all, he was the first Demon born

back in his throne as he relaxed. He

in Hell.

knew that he was destined to lose the

Yet, for some reason, he still felt empty,

Fall 2020

Armageddon, it was as the prophecies had

like he was missing something. A tempest

always foretold, but this was exactly what

of tormented souls was all he ever wanted.

he wanted. A Demon of Wrath’s ultimate

So why did he feel so unfulfilled?

joy was their own suffering.

A beam of light struck down in front of the king. The light soon subsided and being replaced by the most beautiful being the king had ever laid his eyes on.

“Hello Lucifer,” the king said, not shaken by his attractive visage.

“Hello King,” the old ruler replied.

“I’m here to make the transfer of power official.”

“So, you’re recognizing me as the new King of Hell?”

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CARLA By: Alex Wright

I

had a daughter once. Carla. She had beautiful chestnut hair and piercing

A woman stands amid a pile of bodies, most of them having sustained severe

green eyes, just like her father. She had

burns and cuts to their chests and faces.

this apple blossom perfume that she’d

Because it is hot and unusually dry, dead

always wear. I miss that smell. She was

plants make up the field around her. At

headstrong—stronger than your average

the center of it, there is a derelict building

teenager by the time the blinding light

that stands before her. The woman pulls a

washed over Ann Arbor, Michigan. Or

knife out of one of the bodies at her feet

maybe I’m just biased as her mother? She

and studies the blade’s insignia, which was

was momma’s little girl after all.

a shepherd dog of some kind. Content

She always will be.

with her work, she looks to the ragged banners, depicting the same blood-red dog,

Artwork by Jams Gray

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on the building in front of her.

The woman looks up toward the

The woman looks to the field around her. She takes in the sight of the decayed

blistering sun and brings her gun’s solar

flowers and tufts of dead grass once

panel up to meet it.

more. She looks down to the old, rusty

The woman stands for a moment to

Fall 2020

exoskeleton wrapped around her legs.

catch her breath, staring at a closed, rusty

Tucking her gun in between her body and

metal door the entire time. Beneath her

her left arm, she retrieves a water bottle,

wide-brimmed western hat, a light briefly

filled with what looks like oil, from a small

shines as her robotic eye adjusts to look

sack tied to her belt. She pours it onto the

at the damage to her partially functional,

rustier parts of her legs and rubs the oil in

jury-rigged prosthetic arm. She tries to

with the sleeve of her duster. Keeping the

make a fist with it but can only curl her

gun within the light of blistering sun, she

fingers well enough to grab at the grip of

walks around the east side of the building.

her gun. She covers the arm again with the

The yard at the back of the building is

sleeve of her duster.

surrounded by a low, crumbling stone

“Good enough,” she says as she checks

wall and erected atop of it, in the spaces

the battery on the gun’s readout. 47%—

where it is crumbled away, was a twisted,

only good enough for about nine shots.

dilapidated scrap metal fence.

She sighs and angles the solar panel toward the sun again.

She walks to the rickety metal gate and tugs on the handle but finds that it is barred from the other side. She peeks

She was a wild child, too. She was

through the small crack between the

always in trouble with someone, but even

door and the wall with her robotic eye.

as she got older, she still slept with this

After a few seconds of looking, she steps

raggedy stuffed dog, so I always saw her as

back and turns one of the dials on her

my sweet, little girl.”

prosthetic arm. She reaches for the door

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Fall 2020

palm-first and when it is just a few inches

The woman looks up to the sun one more

from the door, it quickly jumps to it and

time and sighs.

sticks with a metallic clang. Across the door, she slides her hand to the right and

They used to say that the good die

there was a sound of a metal rod sliding

young. I believed it as fact and always

before it drops to the ground. She opens

thought it was a tragedy. In hindsight, I

the door and steps into the yard. She walks

probably would’ve preferred it that way.

through the piles of broken machinery and twitching robots while she eyes her

The woman has a look of

gun’s readout. 76% charged. That is better,

determination wash over her and she kicks

but not good enough. She stops at the

in the door to the building. Four people are

backdoor and stares.

waiting for her, all with their guns drawn.

Three men, all in ragged leather and a

When the light came, most of the

red dog painted on their chests, crouched

people that were left went insane. They

behind makeshift barricades. The last

formed gangs. One such gang was the

person is a woman with tangled, chestnut

Blood Shepard Raiders. Many of them

hair and piercing green, wild eyes. She

were my neighbors once. The monsters

stands behind the men, pointing two old

took her. They took Carla from me. I’ve

revolvers at the woman. The faint scent of

tracked them from Ann Arbor to this

apple blossom wafts through the air.

shithole in what used to be Lansing, I think.

Her gun’s display lights up for a brief moment and lets out a high-pitched beep.

90% charged. That will have to do.

“Hello, Carla.”

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Fall 2020

THE RABBIT By: Arman Analouei

“I

t’s not as easy as you think,

about. It’s about creating what we in the

especially when your master is a

business like to call an “experience” for the

penniless fool who never learned true

audience. But to me, it’s just tricks after

magic, but I digress. Everybody wants

tricks. Hell, if I wasn’t snow white with

a show, everybody needs a show. You

a fluffy tail you could probably dress me

know that by now, right? Everyone craves

up in a clown suit and I’d be just as good,

something, anything, to take their minds

maybe even better. I’m rambling. The

off their lives. Something to plop their

show is about to begin. Before it we start,

kids off at for parties, something to look

you said you wanted to know how it all

forward to, something to get excited

goes down, right? Okay, here’s the whole Artwork by James Gray

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spectacle in a nutshell. The magician, who

the applause calmed down and the crowd

isn’t really a magician, more of a of a

began to gasp. The wand was now held

thief with a top hat, he pulls out a wand.

by the true magician and the towering

Again, not a real wand, just something

imposter started to descend down into the

that he picked up off the streets. He taps

hat. His eyes widened unimaginable shock,

it on his dinky hat three times and presto!

but his face remained still. The imposter

I’m just expected to just plop on out,

was finally being humiliated. The rabbit,

surrounding all the credit to that moron

the true magician, finally took his place.

with the ridiculous hat.

“I hope everyone is ready for something a

But this time—this time I have some

little bit different this evening.” Everyone

other plans. This time, I’m not coming out.

had seen a magician pulling a rabbit out of

This time, he’ll be the embarrassed one,

a hat, but that night I witnessed something

shaking up there, lost in front of all those

different, something better.

people. You ever read Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland? You ever wonder why the hare always had his pocket watch on him?

It’s because he was just like me. He was always forced to keep his time in check, always prepping for the little trick. Not me though. This time, I’m going to get to be the real star of the show. Alright, show’s starting, get out of here kid, and hey, don’t forget to enjoy yourself.”

The seats started to pack. I sat down.

The curtains finally lowered and an ocean of applause flooded the auditorium. Soon

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Fall 2020

FISHING By: Alex Wright

J

effrey walks through the front door,

room. The lamp on the end table seems

takes off his shoes, and sets down a

to follow him in his peripheral vision. He

couple bags of groceries he just picked

shoots a look at it and eyes it up and down.

up from the store. He opens the fridge

He walks over and caresses the ceramic

and starts putting things away. Sodas

base, then the lamp shade. No, that’s all

go in the fridge one by one. Then some

fine. Maybe his eyes are playing tricks on

frozen vegetables and ice cream in the

him.

freezer. Beans in the pantry. He takes out

He looks back at his ground beef,

the ground beef and holds it up, silently

which is probably getting warm by now,

debating whether he’ll put it in the fridge

especially since it’s so hot in here. Why is

or the freezer. He looks past the beef into

it so hot in here? He stares back into the

his living room and frowns. Something

kitchen and sees the air shift and flow as if

is off. He sets the cold meat down on the

he were looking through a fire. He walks

counter and walks over to the couch.

over to his thermostat, but it reads out a

He squeezes the leather on the couch

cool seventy-two degrees in here. Damn

and cocks his head. No, that’s not it. He

thing must be broken again. He looks up

looks at the recliner in the corner. It looks

toward the ceiling fan for some relief.

fine too. Something’s just not right. The

“What the hell?” he says.

coffee table has a bit more shine to it than

The ceiling fan doesn’t have a shadow.

usual. Oh wait—he dusted yesterday. He

In fact, nothing in here has a shadow.

walks around to the other side of the

Jeffery looks around the room in awe and

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Fall 2020

then back to the fan. He looks closer and

outward and Jeffery is met with the sight

notices that it looks flat. It’s as if someone

of him. All around him. Thousands of

took a picture of it, made the print life-

him, hanging from a ceiling fan that really

size, and hung it from his ceiling. He walks

isn’t there. In a room that doesn’t exist.

closer to it, and it seems to jump into

The sight stretches on for miles in every

his perspective like a background image

direction. The only light shows from his

in an old laggy video game. He stands

own bodies until one by one, all around,

directly below it. The bottom of the chain

they are snuffed out. The vast space

dangling below the fan waiting to turn it

around him grows darker by the second.

on seems flat against the rest of it, but he

He stares up at the ceiling fan again. The

cautiously reaches for it anyway.

mahogany arms warp and wrap around

His fingers slowly caress the teardrop-

his trapped arm, and the three lightbulbs

shaped weight on the end, but like the

at the center shift into a single light with

pull chain, his fingers don’t seem to have

a dark spot at the center. It stares down at

any mass to them anymore. He winces

him, the dark spot growing larger as the

and pulls the chain. The room spins like

arms of the fan lose their wooden texture

a centrifuge, but the floor seems to stand

and warp tighter.

still. Jeffery fights back the urge to vomit

For a split second, he thinks the light

as he tries desperately to let go of the

looks like an eye with an iris as dark as the

chain, but the more he pulls, the more his

void around. The light snuffs out. He no

arm is engulfed in the two-dimensional

longer sees himself. he deafening silence

image before him. The walls fracture

is cut by a voice from every direction and

along concise, straight fissures, forming

nowhere.

thousands of squares with light showing through the cracks.

In unison, all of the squares burst

“Ha. Caught one.”

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RETURN By: Joseph Mauceri

C

oming back is always the hardest

That’s how complete the healing is. It’s

part.

why I have to relearn everything. The

Air fills your lungs, and you have to

remember how to breathe. Your breaths aren’t breaths at first, they’re just gasps

only things that are my own are my soul and the clothes on my back.

After a short while, I feel the dry

interspersed with coughs. You get hit

coarseness of desert sand on my back.

by all your bodily sensations at once. I

I sit up with extreme effort, hearing the

imagine it’s what being born feels like,

vertebrae in my spine crack into place.

except maybe even more intense.

It’s at this point that I realize I’m in my

After a while I started developing my own checklist, to make sure everything

underwear.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

is in order: Sight? Check. Touch? Check.

Smell? Check. Taste? Check. Hearing?

Check. Only then do I start to move.

It’s not just being returned to my old body— I’m practically given a new one every time.

Artwork by James Gray

Fall 2020

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LUCIEN THE LIONHEARTED By: Alex Wright

A

city marketplace bustles in the

of The Lionheart looks especially bleak

early afternoon sun. Dwarves

today. He pays this shadow no mind as the

peddle their steel and gnome’s show

wind shifts into a violent squall and he

off their mechanical creations for the

pulls a lever beside him. The sails curl in

crowds. Humans perform their play on a

response.

nearby stage and the elves practice their magic among the city towers. A large shadow moves across the sky, splitting

“Quell your rage!” he yells to no one in particular.

The sails drop a minute later when the

the mundane blanket of light for only a

winds have calmed. The winds subside, but

moment. Few look up to the wooden haul

there is still much rage. Lucien sneers at

and canvas sails of the of the galley above

the bronze statuettes depicting dragons on

them. The Lionheart sails once more.

either side of him. You see, Lucien has lost

He stands at the helm looking ever onward to the horizon. He searches for

something dear to him. Something with which The Lionheart would not exist.

something, though none in the city below

“Malveyn!” He screams.

ask what, nor could they if they wanted

He sighs and looks back to the

to. No one else seems to be allowed

statuettes, desperate determination in

aboard. The captain bears the burden of

his eye. He scans the horizon once more

this ship alone. Yes, Captain Lucien sails

and spots a large winged creature to the

his ship daily and he sails it valiantly. Yet,

East. He takes out his spyglass and peers

despite the sun shining bright, the deck

through. A vulture. Captain Lucien throws

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Fall 2020

his spyglass down and the glass breaks and to look upon the ocean in the distance. scatters as he cries out in anger.

The darkness extends past on either side

“Malveyn!” He screams again.

of the ship, as if it had wings. Lucien’s

But Malveyn won’t answer, for he has

anger boils over, as the gods are clearly

lost faith in his pupil. Malveyn gave the

tormenting him with the clouds above.

captain and his Lionheart the gift of flight.

The wind beats against the sails in a

For with all the dwarves’ steel, all the

rhythmic vengeance. Lucien looks back to

gnome’s machines, the humans’ intuition,

his wheel struggling to maintain control

and the elves’ magics, none in the city had

on its own and he stumbles to his feet. He

ever been able to create a ship capable of

takes the helm once more and pulls his

flight. Malveyn saw Lucien as an excellent

lever. He must sail higher, past the clouds.

example of decency in a city of arrogance

“You’re not getting me yet!” He laughs.

and greed. The ship was supposed to

But he is doomed. He will set sail daily

uphold his humility so that he may teach it

to find the one he once called friend. To

to others. The ship was supposed to allow

show him they are equals. But they are

Lucien to see the world from a different

not, as deep down, Lucien believes he owns

view, a different perspective, and show

the skies and none can sail higher. So, he

others as well. The ship was to bring out

never looks up. Which is why he will never

his kind greatness.

find his mentor, his teacher; Malveyn

But it only showed him his arrogance.

the dragon. For I have been casting the

Lucien scans the horizon again as he

shadow around him this entire time.

abandons the helm and drops his gaze over the rails to the mountains below.

He notices the shadow extends past his ship. He runs to the other side of the ship and nearly flings himself over the railing

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Fall 2020

REAPER By: Joseph Mauceri

J

ohn ran into a room, shutting the door

could not have possibly been killed by a

behind him and locking the door. He

glowing, cloaked man. That was ludicrous.

dived over a nearby desk and hid behind

He was just dreaming. He was just going

it. He began panting and leaned against

to wake up in his bed any second now

the desk in the fetal position. His teeth

and everything would be fine. Or perhaps

began chattering and his heart rate

he was not dreaming, and they had

must have been at one million

been killed, but it was just

beats per minute. It was

your average, run-of-the-

only with the end of his

mill serial killer—not some

physical exertion that

supernatural creature. His

his heart finally

brain made things up to

began to

help him cope

calm itself,

with what he

but it redoubled

had just witnessed.

in speed as soon as

His maniacal

he remembered what had

laughter ceased once he heard

happened.

the familiar footsteps: loud clumping

Each breath was agony. He gripped

from boots accompanied by the scraping

his head as if he was trying to break the

of metal on the tile floor. John’s body

memory. Then, he began to laugh. He

instantly became drenched with sweat.

was losing it. His Sierra and his sister

His heart beat even faster than before. He

Artwork by Norbert Barrion

MICROFICTION The Forge

heard the doorknob twisting and shaking.

Fall 2020

Everything seemed to slow down.

He covered his mouth to keep himself

John knew immediately to run. He got

from screaming. The sound of glass

to his feet and sprinted towards a nearby

shattering rang throughout the room and

window. The desk he hid behind, now

there was the familiar click of an opening

being thrown away, no longer obstructed

door. At this point, John could not help

his pursuer’s path. This did not matter,

but cry. He stifled the sobs with his hands,

just as long as he could get to the window.

but the tears mixed in with his sweat and

He was inches away and John felt the cold

drenched the ground around him.

glass on his fingertips. He actually smiled.

The click of boots and the scrape of metal moved through the room. John did

Then, he was paralyzed.

He felt something, more similar to

not dare to look for fear of him being

ice than flesh, grab onto the back of his

discovered. It seemed to meander about,

neck. He was frozen to such a degree that

periodically stopping to check behind the

he could not even replace his smile with

other desks in the room. As the shuffling

a more accurate look of abject terror. He

came closer to John’s hiding place, he

pulled away from the window and took a

could hear a strange noise akin to that of

few steps backwards. John felt strange, like

a vacuum and, just like a vacuum, he felt

he was no longer in control of his own

all the heat getting sucked out of his body

body.

and an unparalleled cold took hold of him.

As he breathed, vapor came out from his nose and mouth. “It’s just a dream! It’s just

“Turn around.” The raspy voice of the inhuman creature forced John to face him.

It was even more horrifying than the

a dream! It’s just a dream!” John shouted

glimpses he had seen when it killed Sierra

over and over again in his head. The sound

and his sister. He did not even know how

stopped right next to his hiding place. The

it was alive. Its entire body was completely

jig was up.

stripped of skin and muscle and, replacing

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Fall 2020

both, was instead surrounded by an

certain locations but intensified in others,

electric blue shroud. In a poor attempt

with all the pain being moved to his

to cover its hideous body, it wore a black

stomach. Then, all at once, it subsided.

cloak, which was partially opened around

John had never been more shocked in

the chest to show its ribcage. It stared into

his life. Something, of the same shade of

his eyes with its own eye sockets.

blue as the creature that had assaulted him,

The creature brandished a large, metal

floated out of his stomach. It was wispy,

pole with a crescent blade attached to the

seemingly moving to a breeze that was not

end of it. It held the weapon aloft, using

there. Despite John’s utter confusion and

both hands in preparation for a mighty

lack of knowledge about what this thing

swing, as if it were using a baseball bat. “I

actually was, he knew he needed it. He

will see you on the other side.” Faster than

weakly reached out to it, wanting to shove

the eye could see, the blade slashed across

it back into his gut.

his stomach. “I’m dead,” thought John.

Except he was not dead. As a matter

The creature suddenly grabbed onto the blue wisp and, at this, all of John’s pain

of fact, there was not even a scratch on

returned. He wailed in agony and recoiled

his body. It missed. He began to feel relief,

from the creature. That was it—the last

but immediately beat back the feeling. The

bit of distance needed to separate John

creature was still right in front of him, so

from this strange wisp. Once again, the

it could just try again.

pain subsided, but now, all of John’s other

An immense pain suddenly wracked

sensations had left him as well. A single

John’s body. Every inch of him felt as if

tear dropped from his eye and everything

it was on fire. Still unable to move, all he

went dark.

could do was cry, since his tear ducts and heart were not paralyzed by this creature’s magics. The pain started to subside in

MICROFICTION The Forge

Fall 2020

THE HUNTER By: Alex Wright

T

he tracker moves through the

ground and the heel is less distinct. The

underbrush, her bow slung over

tracker looks up. A tree about twenty feet

her shoulder. Her walk is brisk, and she’s

to west has large claw marks dug into it

crouched over, studying the ground as she

nearly seven feet from the ground. Several

goes. She pauses and pushes some leaves

branches have been broken off above that

and tall grass out of the way to reveal

and the claw marks are deep enough to

a three-toed claw print in the mud. The

cause the tree to lean near the top. The

hunter looks for-ward and notices a trail

crea-ture definitely jumped to it to try to

that’s pushed the grass to the side, making

get the drop on something. But what?

it easy to follow. She pulls on one of the

A rotten smell wafts through the air as

straps to her leather shoulder guard to

she moves closer to the tree. As the hunter

tighten it before moving forward.

leans up against the trunk, she can see the

The hunter follows the trail out of the

small clearing beyond it. About five feet

wetlands and into the forest beyond. It’s

away from the tree, much of the muck and

dim, and the trail is less apparent here so

rock has been disturbed and on the other

she focuses a bit harder. She notices the

side, near the edge of the clear-ing, a buck

silence, broken only by the light hand on

lays motionless and bloody. Her watch

her wristwatch. Tick, tick. One, two. The

ticks away in the still air. Tick, tick. One,

trail stops and she kneels next to the last

two. The tracker moves to the disturbed

set of prints. The toes are spread out more

mud and notices a substantial indent. She

and the tips of the claws are dug into the

spots something small and white laying

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MICROFICTION

The Forge

Fall 2020

within, right next to a large rock. A fang.

massive eye tracks her movements ever

It must have broken off when the creature

so slight-ly. The hunter notches an arrow

missed its target. But where did it go?

and raises it toward the beast. Its pupil

The hunter looks back to the

narrows and its ears fold back against

carcass and scans the woods beyond. She

its head as it outstretches its neck, as if

spots a tree with claw marks moving up

to get a closer look. One, two. She taps

the trunk not far from the deer. Sensing

her sheathed dagger with her elbow

danger, the hunter moves back a few feet

to make sure it’s still there and

from where she found the fang and follows

glances toward the tree behind

the trail up the tree with her eyes and

her to remember where it is

spots something hanging upside down

just in case she needed a

from the branches above. It’s large, maybe

duck in cover.

six hundred pounds, with two muscular

The beast cocks

arms ending in four fingered claws, which

its head before it lets

grip the branch that supports it. The

go of the branch and

three-toed claws that make up its feet,

crashes back down to the

hang onto the branch like hooks. There’s

earth below it. She digs her

drool drip-ping from its canid-like snout

right heel into the dirt behind

and its one large yellow eye is staring

her, pulls back the drawstring on her

right at the tracker.

bow and takes a deep breath to

The tracker freezes. Her heart rate

try to steady her heart.

spikes, and she tries to control her breath

One. The beast

as she glares back at it and slowly takes

breaks into a

out her bow and a couple of arrows. She

four-legged

can still hear the ticking of her watch.

sprint and as it

One, two. One, two. The pupil of its

reaches the end of Artwork by James Gray

The Forge

MICROFICTION

Fall 2020

the clearing, the tracker lets her arrow

it sees is a silver point quickly grow in its

fly. Two. The target pre-sents itself as it

vision, until it couldn’t see anything else.

rears its head to look at her. The last thing

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SHORT STORIES The Forge

Fall 2020

STRAIGHT OUTTA ROSWELL By: Eli Vandegrift

An alien invasion was prevented late last night after a UFO crash landed on a farm in Ohio.

Thankfully, the invader was taken out by a government agent before it was able to attack a nearby civilian.

“It was armed as it approached the civilian, but we took it out before it could attack,” Lt. Jones stated, “We’re just glad the situation was neutralized before it got worse.”

D

elilah awoke to a profound

to pieces with smoke rising from its remains.

crashing. She nearly jumped out

Lt. Jones approached the farm, and his

of bed from the shock of the noise. Her

grip on the wheel tightened. A ball of fear

ears rang and warm liquid dripped out of

tightened in the pit of his stomach, as if

her nose. When she touched her face, her

he was going into this alone, despite the

fingers came away red. Her heart pounded.

line of cars behind him. The government

She got up to check on the fields, fearing a

had been monitoring the UFO for months

fire or an ambush of wild dogs. Her family

as it came closer to Earth. The project

had owned these fields since before she

was called “Lone Wolf ”—the researchers

was born, and if anything happened to the

assumed that the small, singular ship

farm, their livelihood would be destroyed.

was piloted by a single organism or no

Her parents were out of town at her older

organism at all. It was kept top secret to

sister’s wedding, and they had left Delilah

prevent mass panic from exploding across

in charge for the first time in her 17-year-

the nation. The UFO’s trajectory had

old life. She looked out her window and

changed within the last few hours. They

saw, to her horror, what looked like a small

pinpointed its impact location weeks ago,

spaceship lying in a smoldering crater, torn

and it was going to land in a deserted area

SHORT STORIES

The Forge

Fall 2020

with no civilians in sight. However, the

to them, her parents would never let her be

trajectory changed last minute. Something

in charge of the farm again. They already

knocked the ship out of alignment, and

didn’t trust her, ever since she was 15

it was now headed for a populated area:

and stopped going to church with them.

a civilian farm field. While it wasn’t the

“Why would I go to a place that hates me?

original mission, Lt. Jones was still on

I kiss one girl and suddenly everyone is

assignment to neutralize the being. He

looking at me like I’m the devil,” she told

glanced at the picture on his dashboard of

them. This weekend was her last chance

his wife and their dog. His wife smiled at

to prove to them that she would be able to

the camera, her arms around the oversized

inherit the farm when she was old enough.

German Shepherd. His fear faded, and

She raised the shotgun to her shoulder

his grip on the wheel loosened, knowing

and kept walking. As Delilah reached the

he had to do this for them. His mind was

crest of the crater, she nearly vomited.

clear by the time the farm came into view.

The smell of burning material as well

Delilah stepped into the field with

as something else she couldn’t identify

her mother’s shotgun pointed in front of

overwhelmed her senses. Squinting into

her. Her hands shook but she crept nearer to the machine, knowing that she was the only one around for miles. I have to protect the cows, she thought. If something happened

Artwork by James Gray

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The Forge SHORT STORIES

Fall 2020

the smoke, she saw a shape emerge,

the organization for good. We’ll never have

holding an object. She screamed at it:

enough to feed the baby coming. His hands

“This is private property! Get out or I’ll

shaking, Lt. Jones took aim and fired. The

shoot!” The figure stumbled and dragged

body of the alien jerked and shuddered

itself along the ground. Its body was

once before falling to the ground. The

unknown: gangly and strange, even the

civilian began screaming.

color unfamiliar. Large, thin appendages

They couldn’t breathe. There was a

protruded from its thorax reached out and

fire in their chest, a burning ache that

grabbed at the dirt as it attempted to pull

grew with each breath they took. They

itself up, only to fall back again. Delilah

cried out in pain when they realized one

gagged at the smell and sight of it. It

of their legs had been crushed underneath

made a sound like an animal dying, a soft

the side of the ship. Looking around, they

mewling and when it raised its head, the

tried to reach their Manipulator. They

eyes seemed almost bovine: a brown-like

pointed it at the part of the ship crushing

color with long lashes but streaming a

their leg and slowly, the material started

dark blue liquid. It whimpered again, and

shifting. They breathed a sigh of relief.

for a second, Delilah lowered her weapon.

In just a few minutes, I’ll be able to get loose

Out of the darkness, Lt. Jones led

and fix my ship. It’ll take a while but hopefully

his group toward the site of impact. He

the natives are kind enough to let me leave.

saw something come out of the ship, a

Just a few minutes, they thought, even as

hideous thing of unknown origin, holding

liquid dripped from their eyes and their

something in one of its limbs. A weapon?

equivalent of a heart started to fail. They

He thought, quickly raising his gun to his

clutched at an amulet around their neck.

shoulder. A civilian was also approaching

Just a few minutes and I’ll be free.

the thing, but she had stopped. If that thing kills a civilian, I’ll be terminated from

The Forge SHORT STORIES

Fall 2020

AN UNLIKELY ALLIANCE By: Victoria Mendoza

T

he building to Maeve’s left

fire, nerve endings raw and screaming?

explodes in a shower of dust and

That her body, for the first time since she

rubble. Hand pressed against her ribs, she

can remember, is drained of energy and

scrabbles backward with sides heaving and

battered?

heart pounding. A jolt of fire shoots up

Jaw clenched, Maeve looks toward

her calf and she gasps. Her head throbs

her leg, currently pinned beneath a piece

insistently and there is a dull, aching

of rubble. White tinged the edges of her

heaviness to her limbs. Her body, bereft

sight. By the gods, she knows for sure her

of the powers she’d been blessed with as

leg isn’t supposed to look like that and

a child, feels strange in a way that it is

she shouldn’t have been this hurt—or at

heavy and so damn unwieldy. Everything

all, for that matter. She shifts, trying to

hurts like she’s experiencing every injury

dislodge the chunk of rubble laying across

she should have had since she received the

the bottom half of her leg. A restless,

gift of invincibility. She looks at the small

anxious heat floods her stomach. She

tears in her uniform and the blood seeping

should be able to move the concrete block

through it. Vision swimming, she breathes

easily. Nothing is going as it should and

through how utterly wrong it is that she’s

her throat tightens at the complete loss of

in pain. The Myraxi, chosen enforcers

control.

to the crown and demigods blessed with

She takes a shuddering breath. Her

power, shouldn’t feel pain. What did it

hands grip the concrete tight enough to

mean now that her leg is currently on

whiten the knuckles. Taking a moment to

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The Forge SHORT STORIES

gather the last dregs of her energy, she

Fall 2020

tempo.

nods once and heaves. The concrete lifts

For the first time, Maeve is afraid.

an inch and promptly crashes back down

A chunk of concrete, thrown by one

on her leg as her arms give out. A high

of her own, sails towards Maeve. She

whine escapes the back of her throat. She

tries to evade it, muscles straining to

wants to go back to this morning and bow

leap out of its way. Her mind races as it

out of the mission. She wants to throw the

once did, already ten steps ahead of her

concrete block currently trapping her off

body. It is only once she feels the warm

with one hand. She wants her power back.

liquid trickling down her jawbone that

Gods, does she want with a hollow, lonely

she realizes she is crying. She catches the

ache.

commanding vigilante’s horrified gaze. He

Forcing herself to take deep breaths, she studies the concrete slab. With

lunges towards her. www

scrabbling hands, she moves small chunks

Maeve swats at the hand in front of

of rubble out from under her leg. There’s

her, struggling to push herself up off the

enough room for her to wriggle free and

ground. Her jaw aches from clenching her

finally stand.

teeth and the clanging of dropped weights

The parking structure where her

does nothing to ease her headache. Ears

team, one of the elites in the Myraxi’s

still ringing, she squints to read what

ranks, ambushed the vigilantes is now

Mather, the owner of the hand, is trying

in ruins. Exposed wires spark furiously

to say. Sucking in air, she looks around

and rubble lies everywhere. Wildly, she

the room to orient herself and studies the

turns to search for the rest of her crew.

technique in which a recruit scales a wall

She lunges towards the sound of familiar

of ever-moving stones. The steady sound

maniacal laughter, but her leg twangs in

of her breath evening out settles her and

protest. Her heartbeat pounds a discordant

she relaxes her hands.

The Forge SHORT STORIES

Watching a new recruit tap out a

Fall 2020

“Are you? You dropped as soon as that

combo on a worn punching bag, she takes

weight hit the ground. I wouldn’t call that

a moment to loosen her shoulders and

fine, Maeve.”

steady her thoughts. Mather watches her

“Can we not do this? I’ve been talking

with furrowed eyebrows. She lifts her chin

to her—it’s gonna take time for me to

and meets his gaze, her eyes narrowing

bounce back, you know.”

into something that’s almost challenging.

“And that is perfectly fine, but as it

She folds downward to stretch out her

stands now, you won’t be doing the job

limbs, hands shaking as she reaches for her

tomorrow.”

toes. Mather sighs, glaring at her back. “I

Maeve’s head snaps up. She steps out

thought you said you were talking to the

of her lunge and moves towards Mather

doctor.” She blinks furiously, sucking in

in three fluid strides. Neck tense and eyes

more air. Refusing to meet his gaze, Maeve

narrowed, she snarls, “I. Am. Fine. My

lets the silence stretch on. He scrubs a

numbers are up, I haven’t had a nightmare

hand down his face and turns to watch two

in a week, and you said I could run this job

initiates sparring.

if¬—”

“It’s fine,” she said. “The dropped weights just startled me.”

“Maeve, it’s not fine—you’re not fine.

“If you were fit for duty.” A vein throbbed in his temple and he straightens to his full height. “You dropping to the

And that’s alright, but we were sparring

ground in the middle of a fight is not fine,

today to make sure you were fit to run the

Maeve. I’m calling it. As of right now—”

next job.”

He raises his hand, silencing Maeve’s

“I am fit to run the next job.” Her voice is muffled by her knees. Lips pursed, she sinks into a lunge, and her eyes focus on the recruit at the punching bag.

protest. “As of right now, you won’t be running the job tomorrow.”

Scoffing, she rakes a hand through her unkempt ponytail. “I mean—Gods, don’t

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The Forge SHORT STORIES

Fall 2020

you need me tomorrow? Your guys are

only going to remind you once: you’re

going in to the Myraxi headquarters and

just a recruit here. And—if you haven’t

they need me to guide them.” She glares

noticed—there are a lot of ‘damned fools’

as an initiate falls while their partner

who lack powers but are doing just fine.”

stands triumphantly over them. “After all, who better to guide them than a former Myraxi acolyte?”

Mather’s gaze jumps to the fresh scars

He scrubs a hand over his face. “I won’t speak of it again.”

Seething, Maeve storms out of the gym. She walks to her room as her

across her cheekbones, which appeared

mind sifts through plots, blueprints,

on the day she woke up to a powerless

and contingency plans. Her rucksack is

body. She cut through her honor marks

packed before she knows it, filled with

as soon as she’d realized that the lords of

extra knives and shield grenades. She only

Myraxi had abandoned her. Eyes just a bit

hesitates for a moment before she adds her

wide, Mather looks back to her with

Myraxi grade gun—deadly enough to kill

slumped shoulders.

a god—to the bag. Since the lieutenants

“I know what you’ve sacrificed, Maeve,

of the Myraxi fleet had plucked her from

but that doesn’t mean you can’t take time

her planet and dropped weapons in her

to heal before you can run a job. You can

tiny, trembling palms, she hadn’t let go

still help us in other ways, if—”

of them. When her planet was lost to

“How, Mather? How can I help you all

the hunger of war and when she’d lost

when I’m just some damned fool who’s lost the only family she’d had in the Myraxi, their powers? I’m learning this from the

she’d held firm to her weapons—her only

ground up and I can’t manage to do it fast

constant companions.

enough—”

“That is enough.” Maeve flinches

back from the iron in his voice. “I’m

www Maeve turns, locking the bedroom door and barring it with a chair. Sweeping

The Forge SHORT STORIES

Fall 2020

the room for new microphones and heat

She reaches to grasp it again with a slow

sensors, she slowly moves towards the

hand. The blade’s runes, singing with an

sparse bed. Dropping to her stomach,

energy field, flare to life—something that

she reaches beneath the bed and pries

shouldn’t be possible in her powerless,

a floorboard loose, scrabbling for the

mundane state.

short sword inside. She rolls to a sitting

A wild, disbelieving grin splits

position, the sword cradled in her lap. As

Maeve’s face as she stands, attaching the

she unsheathes the blade, runes running

scabbard to her back. Sheathing the blade,

up both sides start to glow. Eyes widening,

she slings on her bag and, doing one

she releases the blade and the runes cool

last sweep across the room, slips out the

to a dark gray, offset against the blade.

window.

Artwork by Norbert Barrion

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SHORT STORIES The Forge

Fall 2020

LOUP GAROU By: Victoria Mendoza

N

ew Orleans at night has a

the one going on across the gate. Two

breathless kind of magic. A buzz

cats, opposite in looks and disposition,

of anticipation floats through the French

chase each other through the front lawn.

Corner as costumed revelers, in varying

Weaving through the front lawn and

stages of inebriation, traipse between the

leaping towards the occasional firefly,

streets. Mama Leveaux’s, an establishment

these cats—one a subtle blend of grays

that has worn many hats over the years,

and black, the other bone-white—have an

glows with an ethereal warmth. The lace

unnervingly human way about them. This

ironwork wrapping around the balcony

can be said of the other creatures roaming

twinkles with string lights looking, for all

Mama Leveaux’s premises. The crows,

the world, like vines full of the fair folk.

chittering in irritation, wrestle over a

The gate lies open, lit lanterns

bottle of rum left abandoned on the porch.

hanging from its posts, beckoning like

The fox watches on, feral grin spreading

an eager lover. The front lawn fills

across its maw.

with various creatures trickling in from

A beam of soft golden light spills out

through the gate, looking for all the world

across the front walkway. The silhouette

like partygoers entering a masquerade.

of a hooded figure makes the cats stumble

One rooster, twin crows, an uncomfortably

in the middle of their odd waltz. A voice

large snake, and something that was

calls out in warning, echoing from behind

almost a fox—all romping through

the figure on the porch. The not-quite-a-

the lawn in a celebration that mirrors

fox cocks its head, stepping towards the

SHORT STORIES The Forge

Fall 2020

smooth, low voice. A wink of light flashes

opportunist—smirked and offered to

across its gaze, two eyes glowing molten

“clean him up”. Thus, two became one

silver. Turning towards the doorway,

as Kai slunk away from the beginning

the crimson hood slips down, revealing a

of a one-night-stand. Buzzing with the

tousled bob and sharp, elfin cheekbones.

freedom of turning 21, she had jumped at

The figure, a girl of twenty odd years if

the chance to explore the nightlife.

anyone asks, extends her arm as she calls

Fidgeting with her ridiculously itchy

back in a clear, lilting voice. One of the

angel wings, she looks around the dingy

crows, with a single milk-white eye, flies to

bar. A riotous roar fills the bar, and she

perch gently on her outstretched arm. As

regrets, not for the first time, ignoring

she sets off, yellowed eyes glinting in the

the promise she’d made to her mom about

lamplight, she daintily places the crow on

using the buddy system when going out.

her shoulder and lifts her hood once more.

Frowning, she studies the crowded bar,

www

and wonders how the hell she could feel

Halloween on this side of the bayou

so lonely in a place like this. Neon signs

is a time of transformations and gluttony.

lining the black walls bathe the room in

No matter how mild mannered or angelic

muted tones of blues and reds. She sighs

one tries to be, on this night everyone is a

and makes the mistake of leaning an elbow

bit beastly. The longer the night wears on,

on the sticky bar top behind her.

the more animalistic the celebratory howls

The bartender, cloaked in an air of

become, as strides lengthen into prowling

disenchanted exhaustion, bares her teeth

movements.

in an almost-smile at the handsy mad

Kai hadn’t planned to ditch her

scientist next to Kai. Jostling her out of

roommate three hurricanes in. She’d

the way, he leans on the bar, mouth twisted

spilled her drink on a handsome

in a predatory grin. Kai glares down at her

vampire, and her roommate—ever the

half-empty cup, dark brows knitted and

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The Forge SHORT STORIES

Fall 2020

mouth flattening. The worst part—worse,

grimaces down at her only pair of nice

even, than her painfully obvious lack of

shoes, now stained with the blood-like

allure—is that without her werewolf of

remnants of her drink. Rolling her head

a roommate, absolutely no one knows

back, she squints up toward the star-

what her costume is. She’s just some girl

dotted sky.

shivering in a minidress and a cheap red cape.

Another roar from the crowd, presumably in appreciation for the godawful caterwauling at the karaoke stage.

Her elbow is jostled once more by the

She’s so focused on looking for Orion that she doesn’t notice the man behind her, loping for all the world as if he were more wolf than man. www Lamplight spills out on the street

wannabe Frankenstein and she stumbles

ahead of her. She grins, slow and sweet

over her pleather heels, spilling half her

and a bit drunk. Toeing her heels off, she

drink in the process. Clicking her tongue,

lines them neatly against the curb and

she turns from the sympathetic bartender

leaps towards the puddles of light leading

to survey the damage. At the sight of the

towards Tremé, where she will surely find

sticky red liquid dripping down the front

her warm apartment and, if she’s lucky, a

of her dress, she huffs and downs the

nice large slice of pizza. She tilts her head,

rest of her overpriced drink. The cloying

and blinks hard twice. The world swims in

smell of artificial fruit invading her nose,

the way that it does when one finally starts

she shoves through the crowd towards

to feel the effects of the alcohol they’ve

the cooling night air. The overwhelming

ingested. She stops walking, swaying and

noise of the bar becomes muffled behind

movements a bit too erratic for someone

her. The streets are less crowded now,

who’s only had four drinks. Her mother’s

everyone populating the handful of

voice floats through her mind, reminding

bars scattered throughout the town. She

her to mind her drinks when she’s out. She

The Forge SHORT STORIES

Fall 2020

shuffles towards the wrought-iron gates

furiously, she turns to where she hopes the

of the cemetery. There’s a shortcut that

path to her apartment is.

leads directly to her street that she saved

Rieka leans against a weeping angel

for times like these. Behind her, almost

and studies the inebriated girl. Bare feet,

imperceptibly, a twig snaps.

wide, unfocused eyes, and shoddy balance.

www

Kai trips over an offering, muttering.

Rieka stalks behind the wolf man,

The perfect prey, what with her guileless

crimson cloak hiding the twin daggers

expression and trusting demeanor. Rieka

hanging from her hips. Very rarely does

moves closer to Kai, scenting the pungent

she find the need to use them, but she

waft of alcohol coming from the girl in

prefers to err on the side of caution. The

front of her. Rieka scans the surrounding

thick grass of the cemetery muffles her

graves, trying to pick out where her

footsteps, and heat flows liquid through

quarry is hiding.

her limbs. She grins, a feral, calculating thing, and traces the runes on her blades.

Kai stumbles, the world losing focus for one terrifying second. Breath

Kai, for all her academic prowess,

stuttering, she lists to her left towards a

takes far too long to register the steady,

bench. A pair of wiry arms wrap around

unhurried steps behind her. Fear cushioned

her shoulder. Her breath catches, face mere

by the pleasant warmth of liquid sloshing

centimeters from cracking against the

around her stomach, she twirls to face an

bench’s iron arms. A noise freezes in the

empty pathway leading back towards the

back of her throat, and the man shushes

bar, aptly named The Den. She tilts her

gently, a half-done attempt to comfort her.

head and squints at the space where she

Blinking blearily towards what looks

swore a man should have been. Raking a

like a face, Kai wills herself to focus and

hand through her hair, she wavers as the

prays that the alcohol just leaves her body.

gravestones all blur together. Blinking

Muttering a thanks, she makes an

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The Forge SHORT STORIES

awkward attempt to flee, forgetting

stomach turns and a mixture of alcohol

the hand still gripping her shoulder. It

and bile hits the back of her tongue.

tightens, sharp nails digging into her skin.

She swallows, and says, “I’m meeting

She looks down towards it, surprised, and

my brother. He should be here any

her eyes trace a path towards the hand’s

moment.”

owner. Dark hair over weathered skin. An unsettling gaze levels on her and she is

Fall 2020

A chuckle, dry and taunting. “Will he, now?”

He traces her cheekbone with a sharp

forced to meet it.

“What are you doing, all by yourself?” he purrs, a strange accent making the question hard for Kai to understand.

Some latent instinct, left over from the

nail, leaning towards her ear. “Don’t lie to me, girl.”

“It’s true—” her voice breaks into a yelp as he nips her ear, drawing blood.

era of caveman, screams at her to lie. Mind

“Please, who are you?” He tilts her chin

spinning to craft something far too clever, she

back and noses the column of her throat.

peers towards his protruding canines.

She prays for the first time in ten years,

She wants to say the thing about teeth and their size. His grin widens, a hungry, wanting thing.

eyes burning.

“I’m just a man—truly—just a simple man that is simply,” his voice tapers into a

Rieka pushes away from the grave, crow circling above her and one hand

leering, crooning thing, “ravenous.”

His claws tighten around the delicate

weaving bitter smoke through the air. An

skin of her throat. A line of blood burns

answering grin, just as sharp and just as

down towards her clavicle. She squeezes

deadly, spreads across her face.

her eyes shut. A rough, leathery tongue

www “Are you alone, my dear?” a furry pointed ear twitches, excited. Kai’s

laps up the side of her neck and she realizes that she is well and truly alone.

As his saliva mingles with her blood,

The Forge SHORT STORIES

Fall 2020

her eyes flutter open and she takes in the beauty of the night sky. On a shaky inhale, she starts to recite her death rites.

“Mother, bless me. Mother, guide me to the next life. Let my body nourish this earth and let my soul break these bonds—” a rough hand, more wolf than man’s, squeezes her jaw, muffling her voice.

“May these bones give power to these spirits, may this blood be a balm to their aching souls.”

She meets his gaze, controlled fury burning through her. “May this body awaken their thirst. Mother, avenge me.” His eyes widen as her voice reverberates across the graveyard, stones rattling. Hand tightening, he squeezes her jaw. A crack ricochets, the noise bouncing off the gravestones.

if the graveyard were holding its breath.

The wolf man shakes his head, doglike, and grins back—a manic mimicry of her own grin. At the slick blood coating his hand, he throws his head back into a victorious howl. Three feet away, Rieka grins and howls back, mocking him.

Behind a monolith, Rieka bares her teeth and slices her palm. Blood wetting the runes on her blade, she says her own prayer and takes aim.

Kai sees the moment fear, true and overwhelming, enters the creature’s eyes.

She chuckles wetly, vindictively. Neither of them sees the dagger arcing through

Kai holds the man’s lupine gaze, breath ragged. Slowly—so slowly—she bares her teeth into a feral, bloodied grin. There is

the night air until it is embedded in the man’s throat. A gasp—from who, Kai isn’t sure. She tilts her head and, raising

silence apart from her furious breathing, as Artwork by Norbert Barrion

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a shaking hand, touches the dagger protruding from the man’s throat.

Murmured words, too low to make out, wrap around the pair. Kai blinks, eyelids slow and heavy, and eyes the woman manipulating shadows behind her wouldbe murderer. She sways, and blinks again as the wolf-man shrinks into a wolf, a rope of liquid moonlight tightening around his throat.

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SHORT STORIES

Fall 2020

ADRIFT ALONE By: Joseph Mauceri

D

ax was on high alert as he

look behind him for he knew that if he did,

rummaged through the pantry in

they’d catch him. He was at a full sprint

the kitchen.

the whole time, the adrenaline pumping

“Come on, come on…” he mumbled to

through his body being the only thing

himself. He felt his hand touch something

keeping him alive. He finally reached a

smooth and heard it crinkle under

door and took out a keycard, swiping it

his touch. He pulled it out—a bag of chips. “I guess this is good enough.” He threw it

through the door’s card reader. The door beeped and a red light briefly blinked on then off. “Come on!” He swiped one

into his knapsack just

more time. The light was green, and he

as he heard a roar.

heard the familiar unlocking of tumblers.

“Time to go.”

The door slid open and he ran through,

He sprinted out of the room,

quickly inputting the lockdown code on the door. It closed just in time. He heard

hearing the

the beasts clawing and slamming at the

clickety clack of

door. This was always the scariest part.

the beasts’ claws chasing after him. He ran

The knocking continued for a full minute.

His heartrate didn’t decrease until the

as fast as he could, but

knocking ceased and the clacking of the

he knew they were

beasts’ claws headed away from the door.

faster. He didn’t

“One of these days, those things are

take a second to

gonna kill me.” Dax got back to his feet,

Artwork by Norbert Barrion

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Fall 2020

walking over to the empty chair at the

distress signal had really gone out, help

front of the room. “Evening, cap,” he said

from the nearest star system would have

to the skeleton in the seat next to him. He

arrived three weeks ago.

pressed a button on his dashboard and the

Dax laid back in his chair and as he

sun shields went up. He stared out into

finished the can of beans, he reached over

the abyss of space, sighing as the serenity

to the bag of chips, ripping it open. “You

calmed his battered nerves. He always

want one?” he joked, dangling a chip near

felt calmer in space. So, of course, he was

the dead captain’s skeleton. “Yeah, that’s

going to die in space.

what I thought.” Dax laid the chip into the

He emptied his knapsack onto his dashboard, sighing as he looked at his small haul. This was the last of the food

skeleton’s mouth. One chip wasn’t going to make a difference anyways.

After about half an hour, he finished

on the entire ship: a can of beans, two

his meal, washing it all down with a

military rations, a bottle of water, and a

bottle of water. The calories he ingested

bag of chips. “A meal fit for a king,” Dax

in such a short period of time made him

mused. He reached into his pocket, taking

feel lethargic. “Hey, cap,” Dax said to the

out his switchblade, and cut into the can

skeleton, “What would you do if you

of beans. He hated beans, but beggars

were in a situation like mine?” He feigned

can’t be choosers. Picking up the spoon

attentiveness. A fake conversation would

on his dashboard, he began shoveling the

help justify the decision he came to.

beans into his mouth. What they said was

“Yeah…” Dax began, “I agree.

true: hunger does make things taste better.

Starving to death is a lot more painful.

Dax’s eyes drifted up to stare out into

You just waste away. I’d rather become the

space. Despite the numerous stars that

skeleton after I die, not before.” He took

lit up the endless black, not a single one

out his sidearm—a small energy pistol.

would be sending help for him. If their

He’d never fired it before, at least not at a

The Forge SHORT STORIES

living creature, so it felt unfamiliar in his hands. He’d never even shot at the beasts

Fall 2020

the beasts take it for him.

Suddenly, he heard static. He ran back

outside. He’d seen people try to fight them

over to his console, pressing buttons,

off before, but it never ended well. “It

turning knobs, and doing everything in his

wasn’t the ideal last meal, but I guess it

power to clear it up. “This is… U.S.S.…

was alright.” He pointed the barrel at his

checking for survivors. Over.” He looked

temple. He’d never had a gun pointed at

out his viewport and saw a large military

him before either.

vessel—the perfect ship to rescue him.

Dax’s breaths became heavy and laborious. Sweat dripped down his temple.

This is what he wanted, wasn’t it? What

Dax was so shocked and happy he almost forgot to respond.

He pressed a button on his console.

he had been planning for? Dax let out

“This is First Officer Dax Richards of the

a primal shout, pressing down on the

U.S.S. Fahrenheit. I am the last surviving

trigger. The sound of an energy blast

crew member. Please send help. Over.”

rang through the cockpit.

Dax was completely motionless, shell-

“Roger that, Richards. We’ll make sure to bring you home.”

shocked. He turned his head, as little as

His heart flew and he began to laugh.

he could, to his gun lain on the ground,

“I’m going home!” he shouted in his head.

which pointed towards the now destroyed

A growl interrupted his excitement.

locking panel. The door keeping him

He turned around, remembering the

separated from the monsters aboard his

now open door. He was not saved yet. He

ship was now gone. Dax started to chuckle

readied his pistol, pointing it at the door.

to himself. Then, the chuckle turned into

He wasn’t ready to die yet. The only thing

a hysterical laugh. “Well, I guess this is

he could think of now was his survival.

what I wanted after all.” He didn’t have the

Who would get to him first? His rescuers

nerve to take his own life, so he’d just let

or the beasts?

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POETRY The Forge

THE KINDLY ONE By: Julie Tran

A robed figure weaves with her fingers, Quick and nimble are her bones.

Her needle composes flaxen cloth, Woven and stitched upon stone.

Past, present, and future, she believed in An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

She is the spinstress of retribution And the hidden emissary of truth.

Singling out a strand of golden thread Laced with misfortune and destruction From her spindle, patterns of tragedy Made without justice’s obstruction.

Sewing to a symphony of agony, Her lips humming softly to the haunting hymn, Silken lines, like harp strings, are struck By her cold hands plucking a melody grim.

Entwined in a net of dreams and nightmares,

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POETRY The Forge

Her needle weaves forth in a winding haze.

At a strand of gold in the tapestry, Her unwavering eyes remain to gaze.

Her heavy and dark stare pierces a hole In the boundless, infinite loom.

Intricate patterns, a sight to behold, But they tell of an impending doom.

Through the eye of the sharp needle, The golden thread starts to shorten At the taunting pull of life’s end— The silver point, now uncertain.

Against vengeful judgement and instinct, she continues To weave the seamless tapestry resting atop stone.

Hidden in her cloak, she pulls out a bright crimson thread, Filled with a punishing guilt that needs to be atoned.

Tied between her fingers, the arterial string Ruptures, like ligament torn from bone.

Her fine needlework, now cut and forever torn— Eumenides, a seamstress unsewn

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Spring 2019

POETRY The Forge

Fall 2020

OPHELIA By: Julie Tran

The day is crisp and fair with the fragrance of fennel and violets in the air. The sunlight pours into pools and puddles of bluish white. It cuts the water, like cleaves in a jewel, cracking into bright light.

Pretty petals from columbines and rue lull upon the glassy surface. Speckled serpentine and golden hair reflect in the deep green hue, while gerbera daisies are plucked with a lover’s purpose.

She lies back and laughs at the answer, letting the sunkissed water flow over her as the sky becomes a teary blur. This wretched day is almost too much to bear, but it is not like the rest of the world would care.

Her smile is barely afloat in the rippling flood. Its warmth fills her throat and her white dress drips with mud. The willow tree hangs aslant the weeping brook, if only to see the newly nymph it took.

Her melodious chants and afflicted thoughts soften. She turns to favor, to prettiness, and to hidden passions, often. Bedecked with wild flowers and scattered weeds, the soothing stream soon recedes.

The sky is blue and bare. A sweet Robin sings into the cold air: “A’down, a’down she goes! Under the clear spring water. A’drown, a’drown she’ll be found! Her heart asunder, but obedient daughter.”

Artwork by Donna Tran

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POETRY The Forge

A LIST OF SICKLY HORSES AND HOW TO IDENTIFY THEIR AILMENTS By: Julie Tran

I. White Horse He who sits upon this carries a bow and a victor’s crown, Through his brass quiver, lurid venom and poison enters.

Conquest after conquest, his pestilent arrows rain down, Despite the wave of his ivory cape, he never surrenders.

With his arrival, hope and health will cease, For the silver ranger brings with him disease.

II. Red Horse He who sits upon this has fiery and maniacal eyes, His sword raised upwards for a declaration of battle.

The trumpet sounds, oncoming screams and cries, A mass slaughter with men executed like cattle.

Trampling over the cruel carnage and bloody gore, The crimson knight ushers in the drums of war.

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POETRY

III. Black Horse He who sits upon this has a pair of balancing scales in hand, Oil and wine for the rich, wheat and barley for the beggar’s coin.

Dry wells and rivers, fallen livestock and shriveled land, After the starving onslaught, to the underworld they will join.

To those impoverished souls he will examine, The obsidian usurer grants all with famine.

IV. Pallid Horse He who sits upon this has hollow eyes and ashen skin, Cropping the masses with a sickle mingled with myrrh.

Tick tock, tick tock, the corpse harvest will now begin, Strewn along the lifeless path, not one body can stir.

For the unmoving in ill pallor and silent breath, The stygian reaper guides all to eternal death.

Artwork by Dona Tran

Fall 2020

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ART COLORING PAGE Tipheron. the Old King of Ysmoria, by James Gray

The Forge Roars...

F

rom the starry cosmos, to the fields of magical lands, The Forge Literary Magazine contains all aspects of adventure, emotion, and mystery within the genres of Science-Fiction and Fantasy.

In this collection of microfiction, short stories, and poetry

created by writers at George Mason University, readers can expect to delve into lush, awe-inspiring worlds across all ages of time. The Forge offers a full experience for all lovers of ScienceFiction and Fantasy literature, offering a lovely pair of superb writing with wonderful world-building.

It is the goal of The Forge to give writers, readers, editors, and artists who have fallen in love with Science-Fiction and Fantasy a platform to express their passion for these two genres.

With each flip of a page, this collection seeks to serve as an escape from all things grounded by our world with powerful prose littered throughout.

If you have any inquiries or want to submit to our magazine, send an email to:

theforgegmu@gmail.com

Thanks for reading!