These Fleeting Shadows

by Kate Alice Marshall

“Well, according to my extensive automotive knowledge, the problem is that the go part isn’t going,”

Other kids wanted hot wheels in kindergarten—I wanted to read my unhinged ancestor’s rantings about ectoplasm.”

“Is this the part where we thump our chests and paw the ground? Is there some kind of hooting involved? Do you want me to find you a log to rip in half? I’m a bit out of touch on the current means of establishing masculine credentials.”

“All right. I’m leaving you here to google ‘how to get a spooky forest lady to like me,’ and I’m going to go do real work. Like translating obscure nineteenth-century ciphers about interdimensional space gods.”