Everyone here at UF express our deepest sympathies and condolences to those who have lost someone or who have been injured in these senseless attacks. I hope we can all remember the good that surrounds each and every one of us, no matter how dark times can be.
Now, let’s proceed to much lighter fare! We have an incredibly great issue for you this month including a wildly original take on a piece of Arthurian Legend! Each of these stories has found a way to emphasize the on-going conflict of good vs. evil, be it internal or external, and I personally enjoyed them all very much. Til next time, Welcome to the Frontier!
By Deborah Brasket
Cal stands on the front stoop of his parent’s home with a cold breeze swirling around him, liking the damp chill seeping into his skin, goosing it up. The sun is almost gone, a faint, dull glow smeared along the horizon. Dusk settles like ashes over the neighborhood rooftops. He watches his sister backing her Volvo down the driveway, heading off to Northridge or Norwalk or wherever the hell she’s living these days. She’d come home looking for a little comfort since mom had gone missing. Fat chance of that. But he’s sorry now that she’s gone, sorry he hadn’t at least said he loved her, or asked her for a loan, and missing her even before she disappears around the corner. He takes a long last drag on his cigarette, squeezes the tip, and drops what’s left into his shirt pocket to save for later.
It feels weird walking into his parents’ house without knocking, even though he’d grown up here, been living here since his last stint in county jail, and off and on over the past ten years. He’s acutely conscious that this is not his home and never really had been, not even when he was a kid. He sucks on the fact like a sore tooth, teasing it, testing it with his tongue. It’s like he’d been born homeless. Like from the day he was born they were all just waiting for him to move out again. The thought fills him with a strange sense of satisfaction: Cal didn’t need a home. Didn’t need anything, anyone. Ever.