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Massif Magazine
Fiction
Literature in the form of prose, especially short stories and novels, that describes imaginary events and people.
Death By Charcuterie
Danielle Morris
We first came to consciousness in a grocery store, as they called it. We often reminisce on the figures that pass us by through the long aisles. They would always push a large, wired basket on wheels. We heard a human once refer to it as a “cart”. What a weird word. We guess this was used to collect their victims after they pillaged each aisle. Some of these humans would stop to pick us up, glance at scribbles on our back, and pause to think. Our back tattoos would help them decide whether we were worthy, we presumed.
Mirror Mirror
Danielle Morris
Humans always look at me. I'm kind of mesmerizing that way, I guess. Whenever a human walks by, they can't help but gaze at me. I'm rather tall, about 7 feet high. My frame is quite feminine, being very flowery and golden, unlike my siblings who seemed gaudy by comparison. I was lucky enough to see my reflection in my sister's face a time or two allowing myself the joy of observing my own beauty firsthand. My first memory of my father was a happy one. I remember feeling him lightly stroke the edges of my body with a small brush covered with metallic gold paint.
Strange Tides
Payton Doughty
Strange things lead you to walk the beach at night. Well, that’s what Cerys believed. It seemed to be another sleepless night as she laid in bed and listened to the nothingness around her. The rooms in the house were silent and dark and the glaring, green light from her alarm clock was doing nothing to ease her unrest. Her pillows and blankets pressed against her uncomfortably and no amount of adjusting could fix it.
The Cold
Rebekah Wolkiewicz
The patio couch was wide and comfy, and I was curled up with a cup of tea. It was raining pretty hard but it was nice outside. I’d pulled the screens down to the handrails to keep myself and the porch dry and warm. I could see through the screens, at least until the last of the sunset. She came out. I wasn’t worried she’d repeat what she did last time but I got her attention, a typical 14-year-old’s easily-invoked expression of distaste.
The Mountains Are Watching
Em E Lee Pixel
By a heartbeat I’m almost too late.The thick dark body slinks back into the Earth while his quarter-sized fingers reach for it.
One second later I’d lose him.One second later than I should, one eyeblink away from his skin grazing the lumbering tail as it disappears under the sand, I pounce, yanking him into my chest.
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