Worthing Flash

Fisherman’s Shanty Fog swirled around Dorian’s feet as he walked the length of the pier, posts and boardwalk disappearing behind him as those ahead revealed themselves. Yellow up ahead—must be Robert. The older man sat on a bench, his yellow cap muted in the mists, his fishing pole dangling in the water. Blue smoke curled from the joint in his hands, the floral bright in the otherwise damp air. “ He’s gone,” Robert said, his face red and crumpled. Dorian rested a hand on Robert’s leg, staring out into the fog. “Tell me stories, then. Let him live just a bit longer.” Bio: K. Andrew Turner is a queer m/m writer with hEDS and AuDHD. He writes contemporary and speculative poetry and prose exploring connection, complexity, and what it means to be human. His work delves into self-reflection, mental illness, and the messy intricacies of relationships—from the mundane to the fantastical. His published work includes The Heretic and the Broken Man (Lazuli Press), Heart, Mind, Blood, ...

Dorian traced the edges of Nathan’s continents, marveled at how the coastlines of white met smooth butter darkness. Nathan sighed, content, half asleep on their shared bed, the morning light turning Nathan into both golden and impossibly dark radiance. Dorian moved from the island on Nathan’s chest to the archipelago trailing his jaw, exploring the difference with his eyes, while fingers swam the supple continuity of smooth skin. Nathan smiled, but took Dorian’s hand, and held it still.   K Andrew Turner K. Andrew Turner writes queer, literary, and speculative prose and poetry. In 2013, he founded East Jasmine Review—an electronic literary journal. He was a semifinalist for the 2016 Luminaire Award. Heart, Mind, Blood, Skin is now available from Finishing Line Press. Read more at: www.kandrewturner.com      

She paused at the edge of the glade, her heart sinking, pounding. Only on a night like this would such a manifestation appear. She took a few steps out of the safety of the trees, grass scratching at her ankles. There hadn’t really been much choice to begin with but to come. A breeze rustled the leaves of the trees and the grass joined the whisper. She could make out the words. so you have come complete what we have demanded very good She stopped in the middle of clearing. She closed her eyes, turning her face toward the rising moon. yes very good indeed are you ready then “ Yes.” She stood straighter, but kept her eyes shut. The rustling condensed in sound around her and the moonlight darkened. What felt like branches and leaves caressed her cheeks. Still, her eyes were closed. “ Good.” The voice sounded stronger than before. “Then go ahead. Open your eyes to my splendor.” She opened her eyes. A hunched shape towered over her. Long branchlike antlers sprouted f...