LONTAR issue #2 by Jason Erik Lundberg (editor) Page B

on her thighs, were nothing more than bare branches and Quyên knew straight away that the water buffalo was dying.
    One of their neighbours walked unhurried towards the buffalo with a pan of water. "He collapsed at midday," she explained as she crouched beside the beast and coaxed it to drink. "D ươ ng had already told us to rest him because of the sprained leg but ah, on his last legs and only 10 years old? Maybe the sky will bring us the money to replace him because harvest is going to be difficult this year."
    Bà noi made a sympathetic noise and shook her head. "Well someone must have decided he could work just a little bit more, eh? It's always the way that selfishness destroys our community. Quyên?"  
    The girl blinked at her name, fearing that she had been given away. But no, Bà noi was just querying why her granddaughter's feet had started subconsciously shuffling away.  
    Quyên blinked and saw the memory in front of her in a bubble of golden viscous dew at the end of the catfish's whisker. The fish teased it out as simply as brushing her hair and curled it close to its mouth. Another whisker curled out and dropped the fan on her lap.
    "Yes," Quyên said. "Have it!"
    The catfish inhaled her memory through its gills. Quyên waved the fan before her face but the breeze it mustered did little to cool the red of her cheeks. "Water elephant, take me home now, please." But the elephant was distracted by a baby water elephant that wove clumsily in between its feet and reached a trunk up to be petted. Quyên realized at once in her heart that it was the same baby water elephant she had met before. She just knew this fact with certain dread,   even though she could not explain what she feared.  
    The baby elephant butted the older elephant playfully until the adult gave a gentle kick. It uncurled its trunk and offered Quyên a carved lacquer box. Curiosity overcame the girl and she took it, opening the lid to find a treasure trove that made her salivate: spiced pork bao, tapioca and coconut pudding, sticky sweet rice, sesame balls, rice flour dumplings, and candied nuts. All of the sweet things she loved that her grandmother had neither the time nor money to prepare. It was a glorious feast. And she knew without being told that the box was magical; it would give her desserts and sweets freshly made whenever she desired. Quyên held out her arm for the trade.
    She remembered Bà noi tripping over the pot of water. The clatter of plates and pans that fell as she tried to keep her balance. The way her sandal did a little flip backwards as it fell from her foot. Quyên ran to her grandmother's side and put her hand on the woman's arm.
    "Stupid girl... Leave...floor?" Bà noi muttered under her breath as she sat up, hand pressed against her right hip. The right side of her face looked like it had melted and then frozen into place.
    "Are you okay?" Quyên asked, biting back the retort about how neither she nor Ba had managed to fall over the pot.  
    "Yes, yes...you...fall I never." She did not, however, brush off Quyên's arm a second time as she gingerly came to her feet. Bà noi was crooked and she trailed her right leg like a lame bird who'd managed to escape from the jaws of a dog. She had to go lie down for a moment, then an hour, then the rest of the night, until Quyên had done all the chores and made them dinner as well. When Ba came home, Bà noi tried to get up but she wobbled halfway across the room in a drunken stagger before Ba forced her back to bed. He made Bà noi show him the spot on her right hip that had swollen up. Ba talked about going to the herbalist but the old woman shook her head, took his hand and smiled the way old people did when they thought youngsters were being silly.
    Quyên remembered tiptoeing around the house, carrying water from the river, burning meals and putting up with the incessant low moaning that came from the back of the room. At first, she checked on her grandmother every hour