The Third LevelThe Third LevelThe Third LevelThe Third Level
IssueIssueIssueIssue 5555Spring 2010Spring 2010Spring 2010Spring 2010
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As Red as Blood
Krista Ahlberg, 2011
“The physician shudders with something akin to revulsion as she leaves the baby’snursery and doesn’t know why, for surely there is nothing revolting about this, the perfectchild.”
Poems: Amaterasu, Kali, and Hieros Gamos Ashley Atkinson, 2012
“See, look into the mirror,your skin is not melting,and your kimono isnot scraping against your heart”
The Thrill of the Hunt Owen Kerschner, 2011“
Three humans ride towards the trees from the east, and I can smell their magic fromwhere I stand. I observe them with yellow eyes from the edge of the trees as theyapproach along the ancient Olgart road.”
The Ferryman Makenzi Crouch, 2012
“Astrid opened her eyes and stared up into the blackness of her cabin.
Something’swrong,
she thought. Unfastening the straps holding her in her bunk, she pushed off thebulkhead and floated to the comm panel.”
Ahlberg 1
As Red as Blood
Krista AhlbergBorn on a cold winter morning, her mother clutches her to her breast and calls her SnowWhite, in the hope that she will be as pure and white as the new-fallen snow. And with a dotingmother and a loving-yet-oblivious father, she is.The court physician worries about the child because she never cries, but instead looks upat her with eyes of wonder, eyes so dark a brown that they bring to mind the chocolate that haslately come from Spain. The physician shudders with something akin to revulsion as she leavesthe baby’s nursery and doesn’t know why, for surely there is nothing revolting about this, theperfect child.*At the age of five, when her mother dies, Snow White still does not cry. She knows sheshould, but she cannot summon the tears to her eyes. Her father wraps his arms around her andsoaks the shoulders of her dress with his tears, but she only looks solemnly over his shoulder.*The physician, invited to the funeral with the rest of the household staff, sees this solemnlook and glances away quickly.Soon after the death of the queen, the king falls ill. The doctor comes to treat him, butthere is no physical wrong in him that she can see: indeed, he is still young, not much past thirtyand, the doctor cannot help noticing, still as handsome as he ever was.But he will not eat. He has sunk into a despair so deep that she can barely manage toforce broth down his throat. She comes every day, and as he drinks his barley broth or she feelshis forehead for a fever, he looks at her as if she is the only thing holding him up, keeping himalive.And so it is on the day he clutches at her arm as she turns to go and says “doctor,” she sitson the edge of the bed and tells him to call her by her given name, though no one has used it innigh on a dozen years.He says it as if it is a flavor he is savoring, and still he holds her by her wrist as thoughshe might float away on a passing breeze if he does not. No one has ever looked at her like that,she thinks, and so the next time she comes she does not tie her hair up in a ribbon but lets it fallfree.She does not think of what she is doing, trying to attract a king, and that mere weeks afterhis wife’s death. She is careful not to think about it. And when the day comes that he sits up in
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