The Alien Buddha after The Alien Buddha

Featuring 31 unique responses to the works published by Alien Buddha Press, crafted by the very authors who’ve contributed to its eclectic collection. This book presents a mix of poetry, fiction, and nonfiction reviews, each offering a fresh lens through which to engage with the innovative, boundary-pushing literature that defines Alien Buddha Press.

The Alien Buddha After the Alien Buddha offers an intimate and multifaceted exploration of contemporary literary art in all its wild, untamed glory.

Here is one of my contributions:
Undercurrent

When I come to the surface, I pray to the moon, for all Merfolk know that it is she who bestows life upon our kind. I pray for gentle tides and balmy waters.
Sometimes she is benevolent.
Tonight, her face is cold and hard, too bright for the sleepy night sky.
“Oh, Goddess Mother, please, we ask for your merciful bounty.”
In return, she asks for a sacrifice.
“Sacrifice sleep for ten days and nights and I will grant you the stillness you seek.”
So, I force myself awake, jerking every time my head feels heavy against the rock. I must look upon her face and watch for a shuffle or change. I must guard the sky when the sun outshines her and wait for her return. I must be thankful for what she gives and never complain about what she takes.
After my long vigil, she grants my wish. Gentle. Safe. Calm. But on the fifth night, the roll in the belly of the sea pushes me to the surface. Flotsam fingers claw on the skin of the sea like skeleton bones. The moon looks down on me with the rage of a thousand storms.
“You said…” I whisper, but she is drunk with power.
“You are under my sky, my rules” she shrieks, barely audible over the thunder of the ocean.
Naked, I climb onto the rock. The smell of salt is overwhelming.
“What can I do?” I ask, my face upturned, almost blinded by her light.
“You? You are but a half breed, child, a mistake born of free love and blurred boundaries.”
I dip my chin, my cheeks aflame despite the cold.
“Sorry Mother.”
I slither into the tumultuous waters I call home. The violence of the storm takes my breath – the churning cauldron of angry waves rise and fall like marionettes controlled by Mother moon. Each crest rears up in defiance of the heavens, before crashing down with a deafening roar. The water's surface is whipped into a frenzy, spray creating an impenetrable curtain of mist around me. The rain comes next with the impact of bullets. I cower on the ocean floor and wait.
Eventually, when all her anger is spent, I haul myself onto the rock.
“Thank you, Goddess Mother, for reminding us of your mercy.”
“I am tired half breed; I will curl into myself and rest.”
“I am tired too,” I say, my words barely a whisper.
“What?” she cries and the sea surrounding me pulses.
“I can’t keep doing this,” I say, louder this time. And before she can reply, I stand. My tail made legs.
And I walk away.