The Mary Sue is pleased to present strange, beautiful new fiction from Apex Magazine each month.Ā This monthās story, from Apex Magazineās current issue, is āGriefbunnyā by Brooke Juliet Wonders. Take a lookā¦
The jackrabbit crawled through a rip in the screen door theĀ night Mandy left us, and six months after Dad died. It was a tiny, evilālookingĀ thing, with ashāgray fur, yellow eyes, and missing its tail besides. I thoughtĀ it was a rat at first, but Theodore took to it like it was a purebred puppy,Ā and the feeling was mutual: that rabbit followed Teddy around like my brotherĀ was made of carrot. I let it stay. It seemed easier than explaining where MandyādĀ disappeared to.
Our dad had gone up in flames. According to newspaperĀ coverage of the wildfire, his crew got cut off when the wind turned. DadĀ unfolded his fire shelter, curled up inside it, then āsuccumbed to smokeĀ inhalation and extreme temperatures.ā I started working nights and dropped outĀ of my senior year to pick up hours. Teddy started having nightmares rippedĀ straight out of Bambi, thousands of baby animals fleeing a wall of fire thatĀ left blackened wasteland behind. Mandy started drinking. She didnāt know how toĀ cope, is what I told myself. Her version of coping meant sleeping with some guyĀ from Bixbee.
Mandy Marvel, ace of hearts and liar queen. Teddyās momma,Ā not mine. My brother and I took after Dad with our darkāfreckled skin and redābrownĀ curls; we looked more like each other than we did our moms. When I corneredĀ Mandy on her way out of town, she grinned at me like a coyote. āCanāt expect meĀ to look after you two forever. Get yourself a boyfriend and get the hell outtaĀ this sorry state.ā The scornful flick of her sunābleached hair took in ourĀ doublewide, the surrounding park, and the wide expanse of desert that devouredĀ us from all sides. I watched her through the screen as she hopped into the cabĀ of Bixbee boyās green pickup, watched the cloud of dust spray up behind itsĀ tires as she tore herself loose. I donāt miss her, though I know Teddy does.
The night Mandy shucked us off, Teddy slept soundly for theĀ first time in months, the scrawny old rabbit clutched in his arms. In my head IādĀ already named it Griefbunny, for the way itād hopped right into my brotherāsĀ arms, nose twitching like it could smell the hurt on him, like it wanted to beĀ close to where such pain lived. That rabbit creeped me out.
Next morning I asked Teddy what he planned to call his newĀ pet.
āHis nameās Elijah. Heās a jackalope.ā Teddy gloweredĀ meaningfully at the rabbitās head, to which heād tied two branches of twistedĀ juniper, their weight dragging the rabbitās chin toward the carpet. The sticksĀ did look just like antlers; he mustāve been up early, scouring the park forĀ just the right twigs.
āWhyād you name him that?ā
Teddy shrugged. āThatās what he said his name was.ā
At least Griefbunny wasnāt dangerous, like some pets TeddyĀ mightāve chosenāferal dogs or field mice or packrats full of diseases. TheĀ jackrabbitās eyes were clear, its dustābrown nose clean and dry, its blackātippedĀ ears fleaāfree. I decided to let Teddy keep the bunny, on the condition that heĀ let me separate the two of them long enough to douse Griefbunny in dishsoap andĀ soak it in the sink.
I scruffed the rabbit and hoisted but it scrabbled to getĀ away, claws digging deep furrows into my forearm. I nearly dropped the bunny,Ā but Teddy propped its hind legs so it could propel itself out of my arms andĀ into the sink. There it crouched, glowering at me with yellow eyes. After thatĀ I took care not to get too close to the rabbitās claws as I lathered it up withĀ a soapy dishrag, holding tight its fake antlers to keep it at armās length.Ā Blood welled from four long scratches down my wrist.
That evening I trekked across the park to the nearby gasĀ station for the night shift, leaving Teddy home alone with an eleven oāclockĀ sharp bedtime and a PBS telethon on for company. When I got home the nextĀ morning, so tired I could barely stand, Teddy was awake and waiting for me, jackrabbitĀ bobbing beside him like a trained monkey. It looked like itād grown overnight;Ā the result of Teddyās overfeeding it, maybe, or perhaps itād dried fluffy.
āLola! Wanna see what he can do? Jump, Elijah! Jump!ā TheĀ rabbit did nothing, but my brother clapped his hands, as delighted as if itādĀ just executed a triple Lutz. āFly, Elijah!ā He picked up the bunny like he wasĀ burping the thing. I watched the rabbitās leg slip below Teddyās elbow. Its pawĀ batted ineffectually against my brotherās hip and it made a pained retchingĀ sound, then leapt out of Teddyās arms, shaking itself like a disgruntled cat. āDidĀ you see that? He jumped and he flew. He does anything I tell him. Now make me aĀ bowl of Rainbow Oās,ā he directed the rabbit. āTheyāre my favorite. Youāll likeĀ them too.ā
I poured Teddy a bowl of Rainbow Oās, but of course creditĀ went to the magic bunny. That jackrabbit was already too big for its britches.
Ā§
āTell me about the jackalope who ate the moon,ā TeddyĀ begged. I had the day off and weād spent the morning reading Watership DownĀ to each other, but by 7 pm we were bored and there was nothing on TV. I neededĀ a distraction more than he did. Iād just received our third warning weād beĀ evicted at monthās end.
āYou always want that story.ā Teddy asked for it five timesĀ a day, I swear.
āBecause itās Elijahās favorite. One more time and I wonātĀ ask again all night.ā
The Jackalope Who Ate the Moon. One of Dadās creations, anĀ old favorite, except that I couldnāt remember it perfectly. Every time TeddyĀ made me tell it, it drifted a little farther from the original; I hated theĀ warped version itād become. But Teddy couldnāt tell the difference, and it keptĀ his mind off things, so I gave in.
āOnce upon a time a jackalope cowboy named Sly sang songsĀ beneath the moon, howling like a coyote to the tunings of his guitar.ā IĀ strained to hear Dadās voice in my head, choose the right words, breathe whereĀ he wouldāve. āHe sounded so much like a coyote he called a pack to him. TheĀ coyote leader told Sly they planned to eat up his herd unless he brought themĀ the moon.ā
āWhyād they want the moon?ā
āYou know why. They wanted to howl during daytime.ā
āBecause with no moon, they couldnāt howl. But what aboutĀ when thereās a day moon?ā
āDo you want me to tell the story or not?ā
āSorry.ā
āSo Sly sawed off his antlers and he planted them in theĀ ground, and he watered them with his own tears, for now he was only aĀ jackrabbit. Overnight those antlers grew into a tree. He scampered up itsĀ branches, higher and higher, and as he climbed the moon grew larger and larger.Ā By the time he reached the moon, it had grown into a massive watering holeĀ brimful of moonāmilk.
āSly dove into the center of the lake. Now, rabbits are notĀ meant for swimming, and he didnāt know how. Milk filled his mouth and lungs andĀ he felt himself sinking. He was drowning.ā Whenever Dad told this part, heĀ dragged it out, made sure we felt Slyās terror and helplessness as the blindingĀ whiteness closed over his head. I disliked this part of the story, though, so IĀ always rushed. It reminded me of what Dad must have felt at the end, hot airĀ scalding his lungs, the roar of forest fire like when I put an ear below theĀ bathwater, listening.
āInstead of panicking, Sly took a deep swallow of lakewater.Ā Then another, and another. He drank that whole lake right up. Then he stood inĀ darkness, in the heart of a deep night speckled with stars. His thirst wasĀ gone, but now he was hungry, so he began to eat the stars. They burned insideĀ him, then poured from his forehead like fireworks, stretching up into twoĀ shining antlers. Slyās still up there, stuffed full with the night sky in hisĀ belly. And coyotes howl and bark at him every sundown, begging him to spit upĀ their moon.ā
Griefbunny pawed an enormous ear with his back leg, so veryĀ much like he was scoffing at those silly coyotes that Teddy laughed, and IĀ almost did too.
āYou should make up a story about why your rabbitās so fat.āĀ I poked the flab of its side. Griefbunnyād been in the house a few months andĀ was now the size of a collie, bigger than any rabbit Iād ever seen. I wonderedĀ what the hell my brotherād been feeding it. Radioactive Rainbow Oās?
āNah, I want to play a game. Elijah made up a new oneĀ yesterday. You in?ā
Teddy led us outside, then squatted down in the dirt behindĀ our trailer, absently patting Griefbunnyās ruff. My brother could make up gamesĀ and stories out of anything. A bit of reflective trash became space detritus;Ā the tilt of a cactus wrenās tiny head, its way of communicating with humans;Ā and deep within the pink blooms of saguaros lived tiny fairies disguised asĀ hummingbirds. Teddy had a gift for tales, just like Dad. But that thought hurt,Ā so I drowned it in the deepest part of the moonālake where it couldnāt makeĀ trouble. āSure,ā I told Teddy. āIāll play.ā
āFirst you put your hands up to your head and make bunnyĀ ears.ā He held fingers against his head, pointed up so they resembled a pair ofĀ long ears. āThen you say, bunny bunny bunny bunny. Four times bunny.ā
āWhy four times?ā
āBecause thatās the way you have to do it.ā
āOkay.ā
āThen you tell him what you want him to turn into.ā
āLike?ā
āLike I say, bunny bunny bunny bunny jackalope bunnyā¦ and heĀ turns into a jackalope.ā
Griefbunny scratched its neck with a hind leg and theĀ antlers tied to its head listed to one side.
āSee? It works. Now you try.ā
āBunny bunny bunny bunnyā¦ā I couldnāt think of a damn thing.Ā āSad bunny,ā I said. Nothing happened, but Teddyās eyes widened.
āThat was a good one. Look at him.ā Griefbunny didnāt seemĀ any different. Same old fat, nasty pet rabbit. āHeās sad because he knows DaddyāsĀ out in the desert all alone.ā
The rabbitās pink nose pointed due south, toward Dad. Mandy,Ā Teddy, and I had hiked beneath the setting sun until the bright lights of theĀ trailer park disappeared behind us, until we could pick out constellationsĀ overhead. Then weād opened Dadās urn, gray matter and bits of bone borne awayĀ on a hot, dry wind.
āMy turn.ā Teddy frowned in concentration, squinching hisĀ eyes tight as he chanted. āBunny bunny bunny bunny Daddy bunny.ā
That was too much for me.
āI donāt like this game, Teddy. How is that bunny anythingĀ like Daddy?ā
When Teddy opened his eyes they were watery, and I felt badĀ for having said anything. Just then, over Teddyās shoulder, I saw two babyĀ bunnies hop uncertainly out from behind a neighboring trailer.
āTeddy, look.ā I pointed at the small gray shapes and theyĀ dashed behind a prickly pear, one, two, poof. āWonder where the rest of theĀ family is.ā
āMaybe it doesnāt have a family. Just a sister.ā His eyesĀ were two dark waterholes so deep I couldnāt see bottom. Then Teddy scooped upĀ Griefbunny and retreated into the trailer, the screendoorās slam scaring off aĀ whole passel of baby bunnies, their fluffy tails receding like flickeringĀ stars, white against the scrub brush.
Ā§
Teddyās pet grew fatter and fatter until my brother couldĀ hardly lift it. We waited for someone to come and evict us, me keeping both ofĀ us fed plus the bunny, which ate like a beast. Twice Iād come home to bareĀ cupboards, Teddy having given his pet all our groceries. Yelling at the two ofĀ them helped nothing.
I watched that rabbit like it was already dinner. It wouldĀ make a dozen meals for me and Teddy if I turned it into soup. How hard could itĀ be to skin a rabbit? But it was a nuclear jackrabbit, a freak of nature, aĀ giant circus bunnyāits abnormal growth couldnāt be healthy. I consideredĀ cutting off its doublewide feet, four rabbitās paws for extraālarge luck.Ā Except Teddy would never have forgiven me.
āWhy do you like that bunny so much?ā I asked Teddy. TheĀ rabbit was enormous now, the size of a colt, and a giant pain besides. It tookĀ up too much space. āYou never dragged Mouser around the way you do him.āĀ Mouser, our cat, had disappeared a few months after Mandy brought him home. WeādĀ always assumed a coyote had eaten him. I had to get rid of Griefbunny, andĀ soon. āCoyote got himā seemed like the best option, before the rabbit got soĀ large even a pack of coyotes couldnāt run it down.
āI whisper secrets in Elijahās ears and he keeps them for me.Ā His ears are extra long for holding big secrets.ā
āSecrets like what?ā I asked. I kept secrets from myĀ brother, sure, secrets so bad I couldnāt bear to guess at his. Secrets like weāreĀ all alone out here and no oneās coming to help us, or I wish Mandy hadĀ burned up instead of Dad, or worst of all sometimes I wish Teddy hadnātĀ even been born, so I wouldnāt have to take care of anyone but my own selfishĀ self. I hated myself for these thoughts. Almost as much as I hated TeddyāsĀ freak rabbit. For its beady, everāwatchful eyes. For eating us out of house andĀ home. For comforting my brother better than I ever could.
āIf I tell you, theyāre not secrets anymore.ā Teddy sat downĀ and pulled the rabbitās nose onto his lap; it nuzzled his stomach. āBut maybeĀ heāll tell you himself. Come on, Elijah. Speak.ā The rabbit sat there, gnawingĀ thoughtfully on Teddyās sleeve with its massive buckteeth.
I couldnāt deal with any more of his nonsense. The rabbitĀ was a nuisance and a pest, oversized roadkillāināwaiting. Our parents wereĀ gone, two moms and a dad disappeared like rabbits into a hat, and we wereĀ totally screwed. I was totally screwed. āThey donāt talk, Theodore. Animals donātĀ talk.ā
Teddyās face fell; he looked positively betrayed.
āYou swore youād tell her yourself!ā he rounded on theĀ bunny. āStupid lying rabbit.ā He kicked Griefbunny and the rabbit shuffledĀ sideways, too large to escape him in the confines of our living room. It staredĀ at me with baleful yellow eyes. āMomās coming back soon. Elijah promised.ā
āTeddy, stop making things up.ā
āWhenās she coming home, Lola?ā
āSheās not.ā I watched my stubborn brother weigh thisĀ information, brow furrowing as he decided whether to believe my newest story. āMandyĀ left you, just like my mom left me.ā
He frowned at the rabbit, then at me, then back at theĀ rabbit again, judging. Then he shook his head. āNo. Sheāll be home soon. AndĀ Daddyās already home, out in the desert where we put him.ā
Teddy tried to carry the rabbit off but it refused to budge;Ā it was far too heavy for him to lift now. He gave up, gave it a shove, thenĀ stormed into the back room and flung himself onto his bed. I let him go. It wasĀ the first time my brotherād ever left me alone with the bunny.
I didnāt know what the rabbit was, exactly. My sadness or Teddyās?Ā The way we missed Dad, or the way Teddy missed Mandy? Did it grow bigger theĀ more I ignored it, or the more Teddy loved it? Iād named it Griefbunny for aĀ reason, and the nameād stuck no matter how many times Teddy called it Elijah. A
parasite fattened on grief. Well, I didnāt want grief in our lives any more. WeĀ had to grow up and move on if we were going to survive.
I had no idea how to prepare rabbit stew, and althoughĀ loosing the bunny into the wilderness freed me of blame, there was no guaranteeĀ coyotes would finish the job. So instead I took a bottle of RidāX fromĀ underneath the kitchen sink, poured a bowlful of Rainbow Oās, and doused themĀ in toxic liquid. Before I could secondāguess myself, Iād set them down on theĀ carpet in front of the rabbit. It sniffed them, nose twitching, then dug in,Ā yellow eyes fastened on mine all the while. We stared each other down likeĀ rattlesnakes until the rabbit licked up the last Technicolor O. It didnāt takeĀ its demon eyes off me, even as I slipped out the door, already late for work.
Ā§
I never sleep on the job, never, but it was like myĀ subconscious knew what Iād done, and was pissed, and decided to knock meĀ unconscious to tell me so. I woke up with my head on the register and the storeĀ clock reading 5 am. No idea how long Iād been out.
The nightmare had been too real. Iād grown antlers, was partĀ girl, part mule deer. Running, running through the desert, with somethingĀ terrible right behind me: a darkness wreathed in fire. When I glanced over myĀ shoulder, I could see the darkness had Teddy between its flameādrenched teeth.Ā It was shaking him like a dead pet. The antlers were so heavy they weighed meĀ down; I ran slower and slower until the darkness consumed me.
I never leave work early either, but I was so rattled IĀ called the manager and told him Iād gotten food poisoning. When he sleepilyĀ told me to lock up, that heād be in at 6, I counted out the register fasterĀ than a robot could do. Then I ran home like the darkness had me in its sights.
Ā§
I let myself in only to trip over a massive stick, theĀ remains of Elijahās latest pair of antlers. I marched into the back room readyĀ to shout at Theodoreāhe was more than old enough to clean up after himselfĀ while I was outāwhen I realized my brother wasnāt in the trailer. Neither wasĀ the giant bunny.
What had I done? I imagined Teddy lugging the rabbitāsĀ carcass into the desert. Heād drag it south, toward Dad. I grabbed a jug ofĀ water and headed out. The brutal heat baked me flat, though the sun hadnāt yetĀ crested the mountaintop. Teddy had to be out there somewhere, and as soon asĀ that sun reared its yellow head, Iād be racing against heatstroke to find him.
My mind sent me nightmare images of Teddy. Would he crawl onĀ his knees like those terrible cartoons of men in the desert, dying of thirst?Ā Would he tell himself silly rabbit stories until his brain began to bake insideĀ his skull and he began babbling nonsense? Would he start seeing things? Oases,Ā mirages? Had this been how Dad felt, alone in his aluminum cocoon, the searingĀ heat coming closer and closer until it cooked him like meat? I picturedĀ reddened skin charring to black and loosing itself from the bones. I picturedĀ my brother, then my father, back and forth, until I wondered if the sun hadĀ melted the sense right out of my head.
I spotted the rabbit first. Elijah was big as a trailer now,Ā its body blotting out the distant mountain. It lay lopped over on its side,Ā long ears splayed in the dirt. As I came closer I saw its chest rise and fall.Ā It was still aliveāwas larger than ever, even, its yellow eyes narrowed at meĀ mistrustfully, as if it knew what Iād tried to do. Relief blunted my panic.Ā Where there was bunny, there had to be brother. But where the hell had TeddyĀ gone? Then I noticed the rabbitās bloated belly, a distended sphere that juttedĀ between its paws.
Elijah had eaten Teddy.
I ran at the monster and pounded my fists against its sideĀ as if by force I could get it to vomit up my brother like a poisonous moon. IĀ tore out clumps of its patchy fur by the fistful, fluff falling to ground likeĀ a snowfall of ashes. I punched and kicked and fought but my rage made not aĀ lick of difference. The jackrabbit didnāt so much as turn its head, just let meĀ wear myself out until I sank to the ground, panting and hollow. Pressing myĀ face into the bunnyās enormous flank, I inhaled its wild scent, embers dampenedĀ by desert rain. The rabbitās heart beat a thrumming pulse beneath its fur,Ā hummingbirdāswift. Fear, helplessness, and regret twisted through my insidesĀ like a cyclone, and I howled.
Then I heard a muffled sound coming as if from someplace farĀ away. My name, shouted from somewhere deep inside the rabbit. But the noiseĀ didnāt come from its belly. It came from Elijahās ears, which were cupped in aĀ fluffy, boyāsized cocoon. I set my back against the uppermost ear and pushed.Ā Slowly, slowly the ears slid apart to reveal Teddy curled between them. HisĀ cheeks were pink and streaked with tears but he was otherwise unharmed.
āI wanted to visit Dad.ā Teddy hunched his knees up to hisĀ chest, turning his back on me. āI didnāt do anything wrong.ā
I wanted to yell at him but I was too busy being grateful heĀ wasnāt dead. Instead, I scooched him over, and he obligingly wriggled to theĀ blackātipped edge of the ear so I could tuck myself in beside him, both of usĀ nestled in downy gray softness. I wrapped myself around him and he tensed likeĀ a wild thing, then relaxed into my arms. We lay there like a pair of spoons forĀ I donāt know how long. I could hear the snuffling sounds of him crying butĀ pretended I couldnāt, and he did the same for me.
The rabbit shifted, draping its other ear over top of usĀ like a fire shelter. I patted the softness beneath my palm, gently, as if itĀ were a normal bunny. I hoped it felt the apology in my touch, which meant IĀ shouldnāt have and thank you and weāll be living with you for aĀ long time. Darkness blotted out the dawn as the rabbitās ears stretched Ā large enough to enclose us both, their interior cool and protective as one ofĀ Daddyās ghost stories, one that ended in happily ever after. āItās gonna beĀ okay,ā my brother whispered to me in the velveteen blackness. āElijah promisesĀ heāll be smaller tomorrow.ā
āENDā
Please visit Apex Magazine (www.apex-magazine.com) to read more great science fiction, fantasy, and horror.
This story is from issue 67 (December, 2014). The issue also features fiction by John Zaharick (āAnthracite Weddingsā), Marie Vibbert (āKeep Talkingā), Rebecca Kaplan (āHenriettaās Gardenā), and Kiini Ibura Salaam (āDesireā), poetry by Joshua Gage (āThe Grey Catheralā), Melanie Rees (āNight-time Visitorā), and Elizabeth R. McClellan (āSympathy for the Devil: A Duet in Two Solosā), author interview with Marie Vibbert and cover artist interview with Nello Shep, and nonfiction by Andrea Judy (āFandom: Not Just Funny Businessā)
Each issue is free on our website, but Apex sells nicely formatted eBook editions for $2.99 that contain exclusive content.
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Published: Dec 2, 2014 11:06 am