Liquid: A Magical LGBTQ+ Short Story about Discovering Self
Love and loss shimmer through shafts of light
I.
In the witching hour, moonlight skates over the gentle waters of the pond and touches on the weeping man on the bank. It swirls through algae, over sleeping fish, down to the heart of the waters.
The heart beats — once, twice. A shape emerges from the fluid, blinking midnight eyes, tossing back hair as dark as the oily tadpoles which float near the meniscus of the surface. Arms, breasts, toes, are birthed steaming into the cold night air.
When the man sees her, she draws him, unresisting, to her newborn body. With midnight magic, he is healed.
She is riven in two.
The stars fade, and the man walks away into the glowing haze of sky unfolding over the mountains — sunrise. He has been reborn, free of sorrow. The man’s loafers leave imprints like question marks in the soft mud of the bank as he disappears. The pain of the light drives her back into the waters.
II.
