The Mary Sue Presents: “Griefbunny”

By Juliet Wonders
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The Mary Sue is pleased to present strange, beautiful new fiction from Apex Magazine each month.Ā This monthā€™s story, from Apex Magazineā€™s current issue, is ā€œGriefbunnyā€ 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, evilā€“lookingĀ thing, with ashā€“gray 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 Mandyā€™dĀ 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 ā€œsuccumbed 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 didnā€™t 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. Teddyā€™s momma,Ā not mine. My brother and I took after Dad with our darkā€“freckled skin and redā€“brownĀ 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. ā€œCanā€™t 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 sunā€“bleached 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 boyā€™s green pickup, watched the cloud of dust spray up behind itsĀ tires as she tore herself loose. I donā€™t 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 Iā€™dĀ already named it Griefbunny, for the way itā€™d hopped right into my brotherā€™sĀ 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.

ā€œHis nameā€™s Elijah. Heā€™s a jackalope.ā€ Teddy gloweredĀ meaningfully at the rabbitā€™s head, to which heā€™d tied two branches of twistedĀ juniper, their weight dragging the rabbitā€™s chin toward the carpet. The sticksĀ did look just like antlers; he mustā€™ve been up early, scouring the park forĀ just the right twigs.

ā€œWhyā€™d you name him that?ā€

Teddy shrugged. ā€œThatā€™s what he said his name was.ā€

At least Griefbunny wasnā€™t dangerous, like some pets TeddyĀ mightā€™ve chosenā€”feral dogs or field mice or packrats full of diseases. TheĀ jackrabbitā€™s eyes were clear, its dustā€“brown nose clean and dry, its blackā€“tippedĀ ears fleaā€“free. 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 rabbitā€™s claws as I lathered it up withĀ a soapy dishrag, holding tight its fake antlers to keep it at armā€™s 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 oā€™clockĀ 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 itā€™d grown overnight;Ā the result of Teddyā€™s overfeeding it, maybe, or perhaps itā€™d dried fluffy.

ā€œLola! Wanna see what he can do? Jump, Elijah! Jump!ā€ TheĀ rabbit did nothing, but my brother clapped his hands, as delighted as if itā€™dĀ just executed a triple Lutz. ā€œFly, Elijah!ā€ He picked up the bunny like he wasĀ burping the thing. I watched the rabbitā€™s leg slip below Teddyā€™s elbow. Its pawĀ batted ineffectually against my brotherā€™s hip and it made a pained retchingĀ sound, then leapt out of Teddyā€™s arms, shaking itself like a disgruntled cat. ā€œDidĀ you see that? He jumped and he flew. He does anything I tell him. Now make me aĀ bowl of Rainbow Oā€™s,ā€ he directed the rabbit. ā€œTheyā€™re my favorite. Youā€™ll likeĀ them too.ā€

I poured Teddy a bowl of Rainbow Oā€™s, but of course creditĀ went to the magic bunny. That jackrabbit was already too big for its britches.

Ā§

ā€œTell me about the jackalope who ate the moon,ā€ TeddyĀ begged. I had the day off and weā€™d 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. Iā€™d just received our third warning weā€™d beĀ evicted at monthā€™s end.

ā€œYou always want that story.ā€ Teddy asked for it five timesĀ a day, I swear.

ā€œBecause itā€™s Elijahā€™s favorite. One more time and I wonā€™tĀ ask again all night.ā€

The Jackalope Who Ate the Moon. One of Dadā€™s creations, anĀ old favorite, except that I couldnā€™t remember it perfectly. Every time TeddyĀ made me tell it, it drifted a little farther from the original; I hated theĀ warped version itā€™d become. But Teddy couldnā€™t tell the difference, and it keptĀ his mind off things, so I gave in.

ā€œOnce 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 Dadā€™s voice in my head, choose the right words, breathe whereĀ he wouldā€™ve. ā€œHe 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€

ā€œWhyā€™d they want the moon?ā€

ā€œYou know why. They wanted to howl during daytime.ā€

ā€œBecause with no moon, they couldnā€™t howl. But what aboutĀ when thereā€™s a day moon?ā€

ā€œDo you want me to tell the story or not?ā€

ā€œSorry.ā€

ā€œSo 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 moonā€“milk.

ā€œSly dove into the center of the lake. Now, rabbits are notĀ meant for swimming, and he didnā€™t 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 Slyā€™s 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.

ā€œInstead 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. Slyā€™s 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.

ā€œYou should make up a story about why your rabbitā€™s so fat.ā€Ā I poked the flab of its side. Griefbunnyā€™d been in the house a few months andĀ was now the size of a collie, bigger than any rabbit Iā€™d ever seen. I wonderedĀ what the hell my brotherā€™d been feeding it. Radioactive Rainbow Oā€™s?

ā€œNah, 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 Griefbunnyā€™s 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 wrenā€™s 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 moonā€“lake where it couldnā€™t makeĀ trouble. ā€œSure,ā€ I told Teddy. ā€œIā€™ll play.ā€

ā€œFirst 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. ā€œThen you say, bunny bunny bunny bunny. Four times bunny.ā€

ā€œWhy four times?ā€

ā€œBecause thatā€™s the way you have to do it.ā€

ā€œOkay.ā€

ā€œThen you tell him what you want him to turn into.ā€

ā€œLike?ā€

ā€œLike 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.

ā€œSee? It works. Now you try.ā€

ā€œBunny bunny bunny bunnyā€¦ā€ I couldnā€™t think of a damn thing.Ā ā€œSad bunny,ā€ I said. Nothing happened, but Teddyā€™s eyes widened.

ā€œThat was a good one. Look at him.ā€ Griefbunny didnā€™t seemĀ any different. Same old fat, nasty pet rabbit. ā€œHeā€™s sad because he knows Daddyā€™sĀ out in the desert all alone.ā€

The rabbitā€™s 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 weā€™d opened Dadā€™s urn, gray matter and bits of bone borne awayĀ on a hot, dry wind.

ā€œMy turn.ā€ Teddy frowned in concentration, squinching hisĀ eyes tight as he chanted. ā€œBunny bunny bunny bunny Daddy bunny.ā€

That was too much for me.

ā€œI donā€™t 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 Teddyā€™s shoulder, I saw two babyĀ bunnies hop uncertainly out from behind a neighboring trailer.

ā€œTeddy, look.ā€ I pointed at the small gray shapes and theyĀ dashed behind a prickly pear, one, two, poof. ā€œWonder where the rest of theĀ family is.ā€

ā€œMaybe it doesnā€™t have a family. Just a sister.ā€ His eyesĀ were two dark waterholes so deep I couldnā€™t see bottom. Then Teddy scooped upĀ Griefbunny and retreated into the trailer, the screendoorā€™s slam scaring off aĀ whole passel of baby bunnies, their fluffy tails receding like flickeringĀ stars, white against the scrub brush.

Ā§

Teddyā€™s 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 Iā€™d 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 bunnyā€”its abnormal growth couldnā€™t be healthy. I consideredĀ cutting off its doublewide feet, four rabbitā€™s paws for extraā€“large luck.Ā Except Teddy would never have forgiven me.

ā€œWhy 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. ā€œYou never dragged Mouser around the way you do him.ā€Ā Mouser, our cat, had disappeared a few months after Mandy brought him home. Weā€™dĀ always assumed a coyote had eaten him. I had to get rid of Griefbunny, andĀ soon. ā€œCoyote got himā€ seemed like the best option, before the rabbit got soĀ large even a pack of coyotes couldnā€™t run it down.

ā€œI whisper secrets in Elijahā€™s ears and he keeps them for me.Ā His ears are extra long for holding big secrets.ā€

ā€œSecrets like what?ā€ I asked. I kept secrets from myĀ brother, sure, secrets so bad I couldnā€™t bear to guess at his. Secrets like weā€™reĀ all alone out here and no oneā€™s coming to help us, or I wish Mandy hadĀ burned up instead of Dad, or worst of all sometimes I wish Teddy hadnā€™tĀ even been born, so I wouldnā€™t have to take care of anyone but my own selfishĀ self. I hated myself for these thoughts. Almost as much as I hated Teddyā€™sĀ freak rabbit. For its beady, everā€“watchful eyes. For eating us out of house andĀ home. For comforting my brother better than I ever could.

ā€œIf I tell you, theyā€™re not secrets anymore.ā€ Teddy sat downĀ and pulled the rabbitā€™s nose onto his lap; it nuzzled his stomach. ā€œBut maybeĀ heā€™ll tell you himself. Come on, Elijah. Speak.ā€ The rabbit sat there, gnawingĀ thoughtfully on Teddyā€™s sleeve with its massive buckteeth.

I couldnā€™t deal with any more of his nonsense. The rabbitĀ was a nuisance and a pest, oversized roadkillā€“inā€“waiting. Our parents wereĀ gone, two moms and a dad disappeared like rabbits into a hat, and we wereĀ totally screwed. I was totally screwed. ā€œThey donā€™t talk, Theodore. Animals donā€™tĀ talk.ā€

Teddyā€™s face fell; he looked positively betrayed.

ā€œYou swore youā€™d tell her yourself!ā€ he rounded on theĀ bunny. ā€œStupid 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. ā€œMomā€™s coming back soon. Elijah promised.ā€

ā€œTeddy, stop making things up.ā€

ā€œWhenā€™s she coming home, Lola?ā€

ā€œSheā€™s not.ā€ I watched my stubborn brother weigh thisĀ information, brow furrowing as he decided whether to believe my newest story. ā€œMandyĀ 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. ā€œNo. Sheā€™ll be home soon. AndĀ Daddyā€™s 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 brotherā€™d ever left me alone with the bunny.

I didnā€™t know what the rabbit was, exactly. My sadness or Teddyā€™s?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? Iā€™d named it Griefbunny for aĀ reason, and the nameā€™d stuck no matter how many times Teddy called it Elijah. A
parasite fattened on grief. Well, I didnā€™t 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 Ridā€“X fromĀ underneath the kitchen sink, poured a bowlful of Rainbow Oā€™s, and doused themĀ in toxic liquid. Before I could secondā€“guess myself, Iā€™d 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 didnā€™t 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 Iā€™d 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 Iā€™d been out.

The nightmare had been too real. Iā€™d 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 flameā€“drenched 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 Iā€™d gotten food poisoning. When he sleepilyĀ told me to lock up, that heā€™d 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 Elijahā€™s latest pair of antlers. I marched into the back room readyĀ to shout at Theodoreā€”he was more than old enough to clean up after himselfĀ while I was outā€”when I realized my brother wasnā€™t in the trailer. Neither wasĀ the giant bunny.

What had I done? I imagined Teddy lugging the rabbitā€™sĀ carcass into the desert. Heā€™d drag it south, toward Dad. I grabbed a jug ofĀ water and headed out. The brutal heat baked me flat, though the sun hadnā€™t yetĀ crested the mountaintop. Teddy had to be out there somewhere, and as soon asĀ that sun reared its yellow head, Iā€™d 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 aliveā€”was larger than ever, even, its yellow eyes narrowed at meĀ mistrustfully, as if it knew what Iā€™d 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 rabbitā€™s 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 didnā€™t 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 bunnyā€™s enormous flank, I inhaled its wild scent, embers dampenedĀ by desert rain. The rabbitā€™s heart beat a thrumming pulse beneath its fur,Ā hummingbirdā€“swift. 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 didnā€™t come from its belly. It came from Elijahā€™s ears, which were cupped in aĀ fluffy, boyā€“sized 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.

ā€œI wanted to visit Dad.ā€ Teddy hunched his knees up to hisĀ chest, turning his back on me. ā€œI didnā€™t do anything wrong.ā€

I wanted to yell at him but I was too busy being grateful heĀ wasnā€™t dead. Instead, I scooched him over, and he obligingly wriggled to theĀ blackā€“tipped 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 donā€™t know how long. I could hear the snuffling sounds of him crying butĀ pretended I couldnā€™t, 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 shouldnā€™t have and thank you and weā€™ll be living with you for aĀ long time. Darkness blotted out the dawn as the rabbitā€™s ears stretched Ā large enough to enclose us both, their interior cool and protective as one ofĀ Daddyā€™s ghost stories, one that ended in happily ever after. ā€œItā€™s gonna beĀ okay,ā€ my brother whispered to me in the velveteen blackness. ā€œElijah promisesĀ heā€™ll be smaller tomorrow.ā€

ā€”ENDā€”

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 (ā€œAnthracite Weddingsā€), Marie Vibbert (ā€œKeep Talkingā€), Rebecca Kaplan (ā€œHenriettaā€™s Gardenā€), and Kiini Ibura Salaam (ā€œDesireā€), poetry by Joshua Gage (ā€œThe Grey Catheralā€), Melanie Rees (ā€œNight-time Visitorā€), and Elizabeth R. McClellan (ā€œSympathy 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 (ā€œFandom: 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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Author
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Susana Polo
Susana Polo thought she'd get her Creative Writing degree from Oberlin, work a crap job, and fake it until she made it into comics. Instead she stumbled into a great job: founding and running this very website (she's Editor at Large now, very fancy). She's spoken at events like Geek Girl Con, New York Comic Con, and Comic Book City Con, wants to get a Batwoman tattoo and write a graphic novel, and one of her canine teeth is in backwards.