by Freddy Iryss
My brothers and sisters always tease me. I can’t swim as fast as they do though, my little legs never pushing as hard as theirs through the water. It comes at no surprise that I am the last one to leave home. When I do, I proudly pull myself out of the wet hole with my new arms, ready to join the others. I can’t see them but I follow their calls from the nearby forest. As I crawl and hop with glee across the grass, I don’t see the raven above me until its beak closes around my neck.
Freddy Iryss writes fiction and non-fiction, prose and poetry. Her short fiction work has been published in journals, magazines and anthologies. She is also the author of a monograph on Aboriginal Art. Iryss speculates about different perspectives from within the Anthropocene, which includes particularly animals, aliens, and androids.