I have a story in the new issue of Gutter, as does Jane Flett, my colleague at Forest Publishing. It also features a review of Ryan Van Winkle‘s excellent book of poems, Tomorrow, We Will Live Here. My story is called ‘I am not Gary, She is not Gwen’- this is how it starts:
After a hard day’s ride we arrived on the outskirts of Plate. We fed the horses and pitched the tent; after a frugal supper, we slept. It was a deep, refreshing sleep. In my dream the President shook my hand after pardoning us. He said, “O my son and daughter! How greatly you have suffered!” Then he hung gold medals round our necks and named a park after us.
In the morning we put on our masks and rode into town. When we passed someone, I said, “Hello,” and after they returned my greeting, I added, “We’re on our honeymoon!” Then I waved my beak, and Ethel waggled her horn, and after we’d gone through this a few times, it was more or less true.