Concerning Bucks and Bacchanal

Kei Miller

It was two weeks after Carnival was done and dusted away that the buck appeared. And I think that was bad manners. Or at least bad timing. But maybe good timing and manners is not something to be expected of ghoulish beings. The point is, Carnival was done and people say life had already come back to normal. Everything had come back, including the Christians who had gone to Tobago to hide out, and including Trinidad itself that had gone wherever it is that entire countries go – cause sometimes it could feel like that, like the island itself had just packed up and gone along with the Christians, and along with good behaviour, gone off somewhere to hunker down and keep safe during the Carnival week.

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Nothing the Forest Raises is a Monster

(After Shivanee N. Ramlochan, Duenne Lorca)

Shelagh paused in mid-flight, her belly low to the ground, talons gripping the softened earth. She sniffed the air: Blood and iron. There, just there. The next turn. She’d find her at the next turn in the path. The warm wet pounded in her belly, down her thighs. Her ears pricked up, catching the edges of a small voice, calling, urging her on:

‘Just there! Just ahead!’

She knew that if she just followed the voice, it would tell her where to go, that all would be right again.

But before she could get there, she woke. The forest was gone. There was nothing but the beeping of metal things, the bars of the bed raised against her, the whiteness of the room and the faint taste of iron in her mouth.

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