Edition 10: The Stygian Lepus Magazine, #10

By Stygian Lepus

Feature stories presented by:

Arpy by F. Malanoche

Capsized Sanity by Shawna Rowan

Chah-wee-wed by J.B. Corso

Daddy's Gift by Tim Law

Eating the Elephant: Happy New Spreadsheets! by Kimberly Rei & Dean Shawker

No Mommy Here by Jessica Gleason

Partygoers by Tim McDonald

Reigning Cats and Human Doggies: How Humans Learned to Heel by Alicia Hilton

Roads by Fabiana Elisa Martínez

Snow Wars by Don Money

Somewhere Anywhere by Kevin Novalina

Suddenly I Realise That Your Body is Made of Flesh by David Rae

The Boy by Jodi Jensen

The Call by Tim Law

You'll End Up Wishing for Pink Elephants by Steven Holding

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stygian Lepus
• Release date: Apr 16, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224886067

Book preview

The Stygian Lepus

Digital Edition 10

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The Stygian Lepus Magazine

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Jodi Christensen – Fiction Editor

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Kara Hawkers – Poetry Editor

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Dean Shawker – Fiction Editor

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The Hawkmoth – Cover Designer

Copyright © 2024 by The Stygian Lepus Magazine

First published in Australia in May 2024 by The Stygian Lepus Magazine

All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this production may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, including in any AI activity such as training, etc, without the prior permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

Contents

Somewhere Anywhere

Kevin Novalina

Chah-wee-wed

J.B. Corso

Capsized Sanity

Shawna Rowan

The Boy

Jodi Jensen

Daddy's Gift

Tim Law

Eating the Elephant: Happy New Spreadsheets!

Kimberly Rei & Dean Shawker

Roads

Fabiana Elisa Martínez

You'll End Up Wishing for Pink Elephants

Steven Holding

No Mommy Here

Jessica Gleason

Arpy

F. Malanoche

Suddenly I Realize That Your Body is Made of Flesh

David Rae

Snow Wars

Don Money

Partygoers

Tim McDonald

Reigning Cats and Human Doggies: How Humans Learned to Heel

Alicia Hilton

Fiction Editor

Jodi Christensen

Fiction Editor

Dean Shawker

Poetry Editor

Kara Hawkers

As we embark upon the journey into the tenth edition of The Stygian Lepus Magazine, I am thrilled to guide you through a realm of shadows, where each story and poem serves as a beacon illuminating the depths of human imagination.

In this edition, our contributors have woven a tapestry of tales and verses that traverse the spectrum of the macabre and the fantastical, each piece inviting you to lose yourself in its haunting melodies and thought-provoking narratives.

Within these pages, you will encounter characters who defy conventions and settings that pulse with a life of their own. Journey with us through realms where reality blurs and dreams bleed into waking nightmares, where the boundaries between the possible and the impossible dissolve like mist under the moonlight.

Let the stories and poems in this April edition of The Stygian Lepus be your guides through the labyrinth of the human psyche. Allow yourself to be swept away by the currents of emotion and intrigue, as we delve into the depths of the unknown together.

I would like to take a moment to extend my deepest gratitude for your continued support and enthusiasm. Your unwavering passion for dark speculative fiction fuels our creative endeavors and inspires us to push the boundaries of storytelling with each passing edition.

Yours in the shadows and the spirit of exploration,

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The Styg

Editor-in-Chief

The Stygian Lepus Magazine

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Somewhere Anywhere

Kevin Novalina

5:45 a.m.

Skylar Mosely gunned the throttle on his old man’s fishing boat and the nose lifted high off the dark water, the current splitting white around the aluminum body. Squinting, he snaked around the bends of the river, watching the dark treetops limned ahead. His earlobes were red and stinging. His eyes watered in the cold push of air.

An hour ago, he’d snuck out dressed in layers of hunting clothes and hitched the boat to the pickup. It was his dad’s truck and boat, and Skylar wasn’t allowed to take them out alone. But he’d decided to after his dad came home tanked and smelling not like his mom’s perfume. They’d yelled and cried and slammed things until he passed out, and she went to the Motor Inn Motel. This had been happening more and more, and Skylar figured that if they could have their places to go, so could he.

Skylar watched the snow-splotched banks slide by. Felt the foamy spray of water on the backs of his hands like ice needles. He bit down hard, and his jaw squared off and popped. He was sick of the liquor and women, the fighting and cruelty. Lately, he wondered what was going on in his old man’s mind when he slammed tools in the garage. When he stabbed food on his plate as if it were alive, shoveling it in his mouth faster than he could chew and swallow. Always looking down or to the side, answering questions with grunts or nods. He wondered where that anger had come from and how far it was going to go.

Skylar eased off the throttle and angled the boat toward a fallen cedar near the bank. His dad had never taken him upriver this far, and the land felt foreign and undiscovered. He’d heard game ran wild in this area because few people hunted it—if you were lucky enough to bag a good-sized deer, getting it back would be a chore, and most folks didn’t bother. But he figured he’d cross that bridge when and if he came to it.

He’d also heard stories of these woods being haunted. It was where that family, the Otis’, had supposedly lived. Where, if you believed the tales, they were murdered—burned alive, one at a time. Son and daughter first. And according to the older folks in town, where the house stands to this day, the four charred spots still burned into the floorboards.

Skylar stepped onto the muddy bank bottom and tied the boat off. Shouldered his .30-06 and looked around, his breath ghosting out white. Currents rolled and flecked in the river, but everything else was a numb silence. He climbed the bank by the jutting tree roots and stepped into the woods, sinking calf-high in the snow. He felt oddly comfortable, as if the land was closing its arms around him. Pulling him in a hug to its breast.

 6:40 a.m.

Nature began to form and take shape with the light. The world one large Polaroid being shaken until it