Long Hidden: Speculative Fiction from the Margins of History by Ken Liu, Tananarive Due, Victor LaValle, Nnedi Okorafor, Sofia Samatar, Sabrina Vourvoulias, Thoraiya Dyer
Authors: Ken Liu, Tananarive Due, Victor LaValle, Nnedi Okorafor, Sofia Samatar, Sabrina Vourvoulias, Thoraiya Dyer
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spooknigger forest. She went down to the market and bought three roots and ground them into the dirt so they looked fresh.
Ms. Susan stared at me. She fingered my naps. Squeezed my face and then she turned my roots in her hand. I had heard rumors that she made you drop your pants and she stared right into the eye of your penis. I silently prayed she let me keep my pants on and thankfully, she did, but, God, the power of this woman! She looked nothing like the grinning old crone they had pictured on her books. Miss Susan looked young and serious. Smooth-skinned. I would have done anything she asked just because of the forcefulness of her voice. So, I said, is Loretta the one? She looked up from my roots with her glowing gold eyes and said, You’re in danger.
You know who I work for, I said. You not telling me nothing I don’t know.
That’s not why you’re in danger. It’s your heart. If you know what’s good for you, you’re gonna stay the hell away from the river.
I left with a bunch of her books and walked straight to the river to sit and read. And that’s when I heard them calling me. A wispy sound rustled in my ears and I felt drunk, pleasant drunk without the anger or the bitter taste on my tongue or the physical burn of liquor corroding my insides as it passed through.
The world looked wavy, but I saw it – that diamond island rising from the Cross River like a ghost ship out the fog.
And those water-women dove from land and swam to me. They rose out the water, brown and nude, their skin shining with the life-giving water of the river.
Numbers-boy, the water-woman in the front said. Hey, Numbers-boy. You got a number for me?
All those women turned into one. She reached for me and caressed my face. You’re beautiful, she said. Anyone ever tell you you’re beautiful?
She grabbed my hand and placed it on her naked hip.
Don’t be afraid, she said. When I looked into her eyes, we lived a whole life, from awkward first steps together to deep deep commitment. I could never look at another.
Loretta, a voice called from the island.
Your name is Loretta? I asked. Like my Loretta?
No, she said. I’m better than your Loretta.
Without another word, she turned and dived back into the river. Perhaps she didn’t have all of me. Some of me was back with my Loretta because I realized this was a trap. This was exactly how Miss Susan described water-woman seduction in her books. So many lovers, like the poet Roland Hudson, dived to their ends after these deadly tricksters. I took a step toward the water. Then I stopped. Self-preservation kicked in and I remembered they weren’t even women or human, but evil-intentioned beings with secret gills tucked away somewhere.
The island descended from mid-air into a thick fog, sinking slowly into the black water. And even though it nearly caused my death, the feeling I had there by the Cross River was the greatest feeling any man could ever experience. I cried hot tears that night waiting for the water-woman’s return.
I knew nothing in life would ever feel like staring into her brown eyes, touching the warmth of the flesh at her hip. Nothing. I would chase women, try to experience bliss in all things, but no experience I ever had could fill my soul this way. But if I ever returned to the river and that island decided to rise up, I knew I would die.
Not a bad way to go, huh? Drowning in a water-woman’s light.
5.
Carmen disappeared, not by train, but by wind. To hear Amber tell it, they had spent the afternoon downtown on the way to purchase a ring when she walked out ahead of him. She smiled, not the slant-smile, but a broad true one and then she stretched out her arms like a bird preparing for flight. Oh, Amber were her last words before the soft brown of her flesh turned into a fragrant white powder. When the breeze came, scattering pieces of Carmen throughout the town, Amber grabbed clumps of her powder and tried to put her together, but the grains of Carmen
Ms. Susan stared at me. She fingered my naps. Squeezed my face and then she turned my roots in her hand. I had heard rumors that she made you drop your pants and she stared right into the eye of your penis. I silently prayed she let me keep my pants on and thankfully, she did, but, God, the power of this woman! She looked nothing like the grinning old crone they had pictured on her books. Miss Susan looked young and serious. Smooth-skinned. I would have done anything she asked just because of the forcefulness of her voice. So, I said, is Loretta the one? She looked up from my roots with her glowing gold eyes and said, You’re in danger.
You know who I work for, I said. You not telling me nothing I don’t know.
That’s not why you’re in danger. It’s your heart. If you know what’s good for you, you’re gonna stay the hell away from the river.
I left with a bunch of her books and walked straight to the river to sit and read. And that’s when I heard them calling me. A wispy sound rustled in my ears and I felt drunk, pleasant drunk without the anger or the bitter taste on my tongue or the physical burn of liquor corroding my insides as it passed through.
The world looked wavy, but I saw it – that diamond island rising from the Cross River like a ghost ship out the fog.
And those water-women dove from land and swam to me. They rose out the water, brown and nude, their skin shining with the life-giving water of the river.
Numbers-boy, the water-woman in the front said. Hey, Numbers-boy. You got a number for me?
All those women turned into one. She reached for me and caressed my face. You’re beautiful, she said. Anyone ever tell you you’re beautiful?
She grabbed my hand and placed it on her naked hip.
Don’t be afraid, she said. When I looked into her eyes, we lived a whole life, from awkward first steps together to deep deep commitment. I could never look at another.
Loretta, a voice called from the island.
Your name is Loretta? I asked. Like my Loretta?
No, she said. I’m better than your Loretta.
Without another word, she turned and dived back into the river. Perhaps she didn’t have all of me. Some of me was back with my Loretta because I realized this was a trap. This was exactly how Miss Susan described water-woman seduction in her books. So many lovers, like the poet Roland Hudson, dived to their ends after these deadly tricksters. I took a step toward the water. Then I stopped. Self-preservation kicked in and I remembered they weren’t even women or human, but evil-intentioned beings with secret gills tucked away somewhere.
The island descended from mid-air into a thick fog, sinking slowly into the black water. And even though it nearly caused my death, the feeling I had there by the Cross River was the greatest feeling any man could ever experience. I cried hot tears that night waiting for the water-woman’s return.
I knew nothing in life would ever feel like staring into her brown eyes, touching the warmth of the flesh at her hip. Nothing. I would chase women, try to experience bliss in all things, but no experience I ever had could fill my soul this way. But if I ever returned to the river and that island decided to rise up, I knew I would die.
Not a bad way to go, huh? Drowning in a water-woman’s light.
5.
Carmen disappeared, not by train, but by wind. To hear Amber tell it, they had spent the afternoon downtown on the way to purchase a ring when she walked out ahead of him. She smiled, not the slant-smile, but a broad true one and then she stretched out her arms like a bird preparing for flight. Oh, Amber were her last words before the soft brown of her flesh turned into a fragrant white powder. When the breeze came, scattering pieces of Carmen throughout the town, Amber grabbed clumps of her powder and tried to put her together, but the grains of Carmen
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