Adelaide Literary Magazine - 9 years, 70 issues, and over 2800 published poems, short stories, and essays

JUXTAPOSITION

ALM No.73, February 2025

SHORT STORIES

J.R. Leyvas

2/2/20256 min read

I

Warmth had not grazed Sal O’huett for some time. Two illuminated emotions with flowing hair and flawless features could have occupied the space. Sal and his sister, Dawn, ruled elemental armies of rain and storm for twenty million years from atop Phantom Mountain, an affluent, celestial garden adorned in gold. Those were the days when light conquered the land, a time before a hellish creation conquered unforeseen places. Father Sky perished after contracting orbit sickness. A battle cry and bright flashes struck Sal’s chest. He plummeted towards earth. Sal stirred awake.

It was a Sunday when the expulsion happened. A deep, biting cold encased Sal, whose appearance shifted between obscene and grotesque. Sal had been relegated to an endless abyss, destitute and alone. Cinder along with other mephitic smells defied gravity.

I’ll let you have your fun, Sal said to himself, cursing a fist upward. We had promised to never let differences come between us, but guess that was one-sided, you spoiled little brat.

Bats circled overhead; their fangs gleamed.

“They must remember just who I am. I shall rise from these shadows.” Sal said into the ether. “I am king of all things seen and unseen. She dares call me a misfit emotion, like I’m not strong enough, not social enough, not commanding enough to lead. She cast me down here, took away all my beauty, leaving me amongst ragweed and sagebrush, fire and freeze, rats and vermin to rot because I’m unruly.”

A cacophony of voices echoed through the void. Sal was taken aback by the phenomenon. The voices surrounded him, like a padded room, shimmering dark crimson.

I scoff when it comes to communication, Sal said to himself, but to Hades with her for me wanting revenge. I cannot defeat her without relearning how to communicate. I hate mankind, but not as much as I envy her.

A virtual, automated filter had cloaked itself within the portal before anything transpired. Sal believed the World Wide Web, as it were, was a mechanism for control through artificial governance. Sal heard the feverish mashing of computer keys and had a suspicion about where he would transfer. Unwashed skin sidled forward from an internet chat room. The portal thinned.

Look at these nerds. Sal said to himself. After all these years, why does it have to be nerds? What if these monstrosities neglect me? Would they even care? Would it be worth my time? How else can I get revenge on my sister for what she’s done?

Sal extended his arm. He felt temperature reanimate his form. Sal stood sidelong, trying to judge the passage; his heated body glowed like a holographic sun. Gothic caverns broke apart in rapid succession. Crimson and indigo absorbed into Sal’s growing body, harvesting two independent realities. Frequencies bonded together with a piercing sound. Sal had entered, stringing four words together.

“Hey, bros. Name’s Sal.”

II

***

Activities within Phantom Mountain advanced once Father Sky was dead. Beatific peaks sounded sorrowful trumpets, for the mountain mourned then dimmed. A season of peace occupied the land. Time remained at a standstill five hundred human days.

“How much longer must we anguish and appease a memory?” Sal said.

“Soon, dearest brother,” Dawn replied. “The sun has not set upon us yet.”

“It’s been forever and a day, for we are useless here sitting around.”

“Do you not miss Father?”

“How dare you think less of me.”

“We are the light that knows no bounds, the ones who steer life one way or another, the ones who provide nourishment and sustainability to all matters upon human. We are not monsters.”

“The legions of storms have started to question their purpose. They have begun building up rage within them.”

“Says he, for they are not emotional like us, yet are conjured like we.”

“Dearest sister, we have tasks to do. Have we not mourned enough?”

“You shall stand down. The grieving period for tragedy—”

“No such exists. This is enslavement, for not one has ever passed from such wicked a thing as orbit sickness, or passed period. Death knows no bounds within our kind.”

“Ceiling fell upon itself, was that not attainable enough?”

“Dearest sister, you’re lost. I was conceived—”

“—a whole five seconds before myself.”

“Us light bearers have certain tasks, certain duties we must do. There’s no breaks, or pauses, or complaints. No mournful guidelines. If we don’t exercise elemental armies, how can humanity understand?”

“Dearest brother, it’s what Father would want.”

“As stated: death has never grazed our kind.”

“Father died. It’s up to us to shine our inner radiance and warm the planet below. Don’t question this decree.”

“There’s no decree. We are to flex our supremacy within the human genome forever and a day albeit through storm or rain.”

“You’ll do no such thing. You’ll honor the decision and remain here atop Phantom Mountain and cast light downward. Reach deep so all greenish things shall generate.”

“I am patience, but am getting tired of smiling. There’s only so much light left within.”

“We are made of pure fire, of the purest light. We know not of anger or malice. We only know tolerance and peace. We are sinless emotions, utopian and divine. We honor everything below. The times we steered storms we were—”

“—feeling and taking direct orders from Father who willed them. Don’t you see—we have a service to—”

“You shall transact no such business upon times like this.”

“Father always did love you more but I, for one, am done with your gibber-jabber. Nobody made you queen, not even Father Sky himself.”

“You shall stand down, odious blasphemer. I command you, legions of weather beneath me, to stand against this tyrant whose light is extinguish—”

“Legions of rain beneath her and Legions of hurricanes beneath me: if any of you thoughtless buffoons shall stand against me, so help the actions that fall upon you. I’m Sal O’huett of pure light, the complete rising sun upon which humans wake then sleep. Am not Sil no more.”

“Stand down, Sil, that’s an order. Sil, don—”

***

Sal heard a loud, indistinguishable popping amongst chaos that raged in his head. He navigated impossible faults of anti-trust rooted in his character. Sal guided his fate. Confidence overcame him within a shortened period. The ill-faded prison around him became minute and confused. Sal became gay with laughter. Ash crumbled upon him.

Amongst a congressional march of trapped souls, Sal tied his hair back into a studious bun. The walls thinned. Sal channeled his inner Call Center representative and solicited cheese to unassuming prospects. Telephone lines crackled. All remained church mouse quiet. An audible turquoise ringing manifested, seeping into blackness then no sound. Sal contemplated abandoning this operation before a voice rippled through the opposite end in questionable salutation.

“Thank you for calling Arugula Farms where we carry the best assorted cheese for you and your family. This is Sal, and this is—”Sal said, then retracted from the scene

III

A ripe morning matured. It was the start of another day. The ground baked in anticipation and trembled with hope. Clouds shifted every direction, revealing fragrant air. Winds spiraled in the heavens, concocted with bands of color. Sal was planted at the base, taunting Phantom Mountain until Dawn’s pristine topaz form appeared; her rays expanded out. A burning resentment crossed Sal; his moment had arrived.

I cannot harm her, Sal said to himself, scowling. Dawn is family, but why do I still harbor all this ill-will towards her?

Dawn descended to the ground; her gait peaceful. Comfortable and alert, she ambled forward. The fabric of reality recorded every sound. “Dearest brother, why have you summoned me?”

“Could’ve sworn you had that whole omnipotent thing going on, goddess of wind.”

“I’m far from a goddess of any wind.”

“Of fire then.”

“Not even of fire.”

“You really have no idea, do you?”

“I really don’t. Now, out with it.”

“You’re the reason I lost my eyes and spent all those years in shadows.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“You act like you don’t know...”

“Brother, if only you would’ve—”

“No.”

“All the anger you have towards me is—”

“No.”

“Misinformed.”

“No.”

“Miscalculated.”

“Stop it.”

“Undershot.”

“You don’t get to win.”

“The way I see it—you blame me for your shortcomings. You acted out of turn.”

“You caused all of it. The reason my life’s held back.”

“You murdered millions.”

“It had to be done, for I was something before you were born.”

“Yes, you were the strongest emotion to ever be, but you’ve lost your way.”

“I was a God. I was a Light. I was the Purpose, and you took it all away.” The ground shivered beneath Sal. “All of this is cause of you—the skeletal features. The absent nose. The downcast forehead. The malicious thoughts. The lines of disappointment along my form. The forever cold entrapped within. You’ve ruined my life.”

“Your free-will ruined you. I simply did what had to be done.”

“Remember what you told me—that your light would extinguish mine and I’d never be taken seriously ever again? Instead of banishing me to the shadows, you should’ve cancelled me. That was your biggest mistake. I’m stronger now.” Tears swelled. Murder became an objective. How Sal envied her; his fists raged in silence. “I just wanted to be happy, but it would cost you your life.”

“There, there, brother,” Dawn replied. “It’ll be all right.”

Sal watched his sister; her lips curled at the corners, no teeth showed, no eyes scrunched. Dawn’s body language seemed sincere. She stepped forward with an embrace. Sal stabbed his arm through Dawn’s abdomen. Phantom Mountain exclaimed. Dawn blasted a ferocious wind from her hands moments later, sealing Sal in the shadows forever. Dawn slumped over.

J.R. Leyvas is a Freelance Music Journalist whose work has appeared in such places as Amplifier Magazine, Stereoboard, Trendland, Zouch, and The Spill Magazine. J.R. Leyvas attends Full Sail University where he plans to attain a Bachelors of Arts degree in Creative Writing.