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  • Writer's pictureCamp Goldston Publishing, LLC


“This short true story created a lot of conversation between my husband, Mike, and me about what fantasy really is. So, for this issue, I’m bowing out and sending in his piece as a sub. Hope ya’ll enjoy it.” -Wanda Gail Campbell


In the 90s, my then girlfriend’s pet, Lokee – a grumpy old male cockatiel, died, and we buried him in a small wooden box in the flower garden by the stairs to our house. Near that location (3–4 ft?) was an overhead HVAC exhaust from which condensation would drip down and freeze some winter mornings- forming a temporary mound of ice.

One morning a few weeks after Lokee’s burial, I was bounding down the stairs on my way to work and was startled at what I saw. I went back upstairs for the camera, and this is what I got – Lokee in ice. Loke wanting to be remembered? My projected fantasy? What do you think?

Perhaps we are all like the five blind men exploring the elephant and can only project our own best understandings into whatever is in front of us. Were those blind men right or wrong? I like to think that each was correct with respect to their local impressions, but incorrect if insisting that theirs was the only and final truth. We cannot know what we don’t currently know, and the Elephant of Ultimate Reality may have infinite appendages.

DM Tilley

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