Adam McOmber<\/strong><\/p> \/\/\/
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Remember the first word you ever\nspoke. Now, write that word down on a\npiece of paper. What word did you\nwrite? Was it \u201cghost?\u201d Okay, good. \nThat\u2019s a start. Now, think about\nwhy this was the first word you ever spoke. \nWas it because of what you saw in your bedroom that night? How old were you? Two years old? Three years old? Was it a dark shape? A shape that seemed to turn and dance? Okay, good. \nNow, remember how you began to cry that night. You cried because you knew something was\nwrong. The shape that turned and danced\ndid not belong in your room, and yet there it was. Now, remember how you saw the same dark shape\nlater in life. You were a grown man the\nsecond time you saw it, nearly forty years old in fact. You were in bed alone. Your partner, Matthew, had recently left you,\nsaying the two of you were different people. You still loved him though. And you couldn\u2019t believe he would use your\ndifference against you. You wondered if\nhe had simply met someone else, someone better. \nRemember it was the middle of the night when you opened your eyes. You saw the dark shape turning and dancing in\nyour bedroom. Now, remember thinking the\nword \u201cghost.\u201d Remember thinking: \u201cShadow\nfrom another world.\u201d And then: \u201cThis is what I saw when I was two or three\nyears old.\u201d Remember closing your eyes. Remember believing that, when you opened your\neyes again, the dancing shape would be gone. \nRemember opening your eyes. See\nhow the dancing shape is still there in the middle of your room? Okay, good. \nNow, remember waiting in your bed, hoping the dancing would stop. Hoping the thing would dissolve or drift\naway. Remember how the thing did not dissolve or drift away but, instead, danced\ncloser and closer to your bed. Remember\nhow the thing was soon close enough that you could see more than just the dark outline\nof its body. Remember realizing the dancing\nthing had a face. The face was pink and\nfleshy, sick-looking. It\u2019s mouth hung\nopen. It had tiny, pale teeth. Remember thinking: \u201cThis is not the face of a\ndead thing. This is the face of\nsomething that was never actually alive.\u201d Now, write down the word that means: \u201cSomething\nthat was never actually alive.\u201d While\nyou are writing, remember that you are not dreaming. You have never been dreaming all these forty years. Remember how the thing reaches out to touch\nyou. Can you see how it dances still as\nit shows its little teeth? Okay, good.
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Adam McOmber is the author of The White Forest: A Novel<\/em> (Touchstone) and two collections of queer speculative fiction, My House Gathers Desires<\/em> and This New and Poisonous Air<\/em> (BOA). His new novel, Jesus and John<\/em>, is forthcoming from Lethe Press in June 2020. His work has been included in The Year’s Best Speculative Gay Fiction<\/em>, Best Microfiction <\/em>and shortlisted for Best American Fantasy<\/em>. He teaches in the MFA Writing Program at Vermont College of Fine Arts. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
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