I turned into a merman after complaining to the bus driver that I had to wait fifteen minutes. I flapped to my seat, watched the other passengers open their mouths like circus seals waiting for a treat, and asked myself what just happened. No time to admire the iridescent chainmail of my emerald scales. Would I survive? How could I do my job? Would my landlord understand the complexities of dealing with a merman? Moving to the river Thames and gorging on salmon might be an option. Everyone doused me in mineral water like at a baptism while I thought of these things. I wondered if the bus driver was a god? What about bus conductors? Are they gods, too? Before I had time to think about the theological ramifications of my situation, a nice man from Prague, obsessed with insects, helped me off the bus and rolled me into the river.
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Christian Ward is a UK-based writer who can be recently found in Wild Court, The Globe Review, Pink Apple Press, The Selkie, Rappahannock Review, South Florida Poetry Journal and Double Speak.
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image: MM Kaufman
Rejection Letters 