D is for dinosaur, p.1
D is for Dinosaur, page 1
part #4 of Alphabet Anthologies Series
RHONDA PARRISH ANTHOLOGIES
Available Now
A IS FOR APOCALYPSE
B IS FOR BROKEN
C IS FOR CHIMERA
D IS FOR DINOSAUR
E IS FOR EVIL
F IS FOR FAIRY
FAE
CORVIDAE
SCARECROW
SIRENS
EQUUS
MRS. CLAUS: NOT THE FAIRY TALE THEY SAY
TESSERACTS TWENTY-ONE: NEVERTHELESS
METASTASIS
NITEBLADE MAGAZINE
FIRE: DEMONS, DRAGONS AND DJINNS
EARTH: GIANTS, GOLEMS AND GARGOYLES
GRIMM, GRIT AND GASOLINE
Coming Soon
HEAR ME ROAR
SWASHBUCKLING CATS: NINE LIVES ON THE SEVEN SEAS
D IS FOR DINOSAUR
Book 4 of the Alphabet Anthologies
Edited by Rhonda Parrish
Poise and Pen Publishing
EDMONTON, ALBERTA
All copyright for individual stories remains with original authors
Anthology Copyright © 2017 by Rhonda Parrish
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
www.poiseandpen.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Book Layout © 2014 BookDesignTemplates.com
Edited by Rhonda Parrish
Cover art by Janice Blaine
Cover design by Jonathan C. Parrish
D is for Dinosaur / Rhonda Parrish.—2nd ed.
ISBN 978-1-988233-15-4 (Physical)
ISBN 978-1-988233-16-1 (Electronic)
Note From The Anthologist
This isn’t an introduction, not in the traditional sense, but I wanted a word with you before you dive into this anthology.
Usually, when I put together an anthology a great deal of thought and care goes into choosing which order to place the stories. With the anthologies in this series that task is taken away from me because the most logical way to order the stories is alphabetically. Usually that works out just fine but this time RNG was not in my favour and arranging the stories in D is for Dinosaur alphabetically resulted in stories with similar themes, tones or voices appearing side-by-side more than once.
If you’re the kind of reader that doesn’t bother then by all means read this book from front to back. However, if you’d rather not read two similar stories in a row I suggest mixing up the order in which you consume these.
I haven’t got a suggested reading order for you (because creating one of those would set a precedent I’d feel obligated to follow throughout the rest of this series) but I do encourage you to try something different. Read all the vowels before you start on the consonants, or chose the stories that spell out your full name and read them before going back to devour the rest, for example. If you discover a particularly awesome reading order and share it with me I will pass the word on to others via my mailing list and social media.
Above all else, enjoy!
Rhonda Parrish
Editor
CONTENTS
A — Michael M. Jones
B — Simon Kewin
C — Brittany Warman
D — C.S. MacCath
E — Gary B. Phillips
F — L.S. Johnson
G — Suzanne J. Willis
H — Megan Engelhardt
I — Michael Fosburg
J — Jeanne Kramer-Smyth
K — Pete Aldin
L — Alexandra Seidel
M — Michael B. Tager
N — KV Taylor
O — Amanda C. Davis
P — Beth Cato
Q — Lynn Hardaker
R — Sara Cleto
S — Jonathan C. Parrish
T — Samantha Kymmell-Harvey
U — Michael Kellar
V — Cory Cone
W — Hal J. Friesen
X — BD Wilson
Y — Andrew Bourelle
Z — Laura VanArendonk Baugh
Michael M. Jones
Tanith Murray is always angry. Not the cool sort of angry that comes with superpowers, because at least then she could save the world and feel like she was making a difference. No, the shitty kind of angry involving lots of yelling and slamming doors and hitting walls. The sort of angry where everything sets her off, from burned toast to an accidental bump in the hallway at school. The sort that always ends with bruised and bleeding knuckles.
She hates being sixteen and half-white, half-black and not fitting in with either race. She hates being poor, she hates being unattractive, unpopular, unloved. She hates the way she doesn’t fit in with her family. She hates the way everyone else seems so confident, so accomplished, the way they have their shit together when she doesn’t. She sees the world through the red haze of perpetual fury, stomping around like Godzilla and people scatter out of her way. She hasn’t hurt anyone yet, but everyone knows it’s a matter of time until punched walls become punched people, or worse.
At night, when she’s tossing and turning in the too-hard, too-small bed tucked into what used to be a storage space in the basement until she demanded she not have to share a room with her little sister, she dreams of something ancient and reptilian. It squirms inside her, restless and hungry.
In her dreams, Tanith rips at her skin, tearing away big flaky chunks to reveal green scales underneath. She picks and shreds and soon there’s nothing but a pile of Tanith-skin, of clothes and hair and everything that makes her her. Oh, and the dinosaur. There’s a dinosaur standing where Tanith used to be. It’s human-sized, whip-thin, built for speed and meanness all scales and tail and teeth, radiating menace and hunger.
Oh, she knows that supposedly dinosaurs had feathers and weren’t really green, or whatever, but Dinah, as she thinks of her dino-self, doesn’t give a shit about scientific accuracy, she’s something dredged up from the foulest part of Tanith’s psyche, anger made real, and in her dreams, Dinah runs free.
Tanith dreams of loping through the empty streets and back alleys, of knocking over garbage cans and plunging through hedges. She feels the cracked pavement under her feet, hears the click-clacking of talons as she runs. She lifts her snout to the sky and sniffs, simultaneously attracted and repelled by the nighttime odors of a city only half-asleep. She chases small animals that cross her path, driven by the need to hunt and kill and eat, and the impulses carry her until sunrise. She never sees any people.
Every time Tanith wakes to find herself in bed, clothes intact, mouth free of the taste of blood, she’s both relieved and disappointed. She’s taken to scanning the news for reports of monsters or missing animals, and isn’t sure how she feels when nothing turns up. Dinah is so real, it’s almost a shame that she only exists in dreams.
Tanith used to have friends at school, a small gaggle of outsiders like herself, the ones who didn’t belong to any one group and the ones comfortable with crossing boundaries. But when Tanith’s constant sulking and insults got to be too much they all had other places to be, other cliques to join. One by one, they stopped hanging out with her, until she was a pack of one.
Maybe they sensed Dinah, knew she was a predator and they were prey.
Or maybe they just didn’t want to deal with her bullshit.
Hell, even she doesn’t like herself that much. Apart from terrorizing the city in her dreams, Tanith’s only joy is running. That doesn’t need skill, it just requires stamina and the ability to put one foot in front of another until you’ve gone from point A to point B and maybe back to the beginning again. She’s not particularly fast, and she doesn’t care where she’s going but she can run for hours—around the track, through the parks, along the streets. She’s not running from anything, not running to anywhere, but the constant pounding of feet, the inhalation and exhalation, the burning of muscles—they chip away at her anger, so she can fall into a state of quiet calm. When she runs, she’s totally Zen.
And then one Tuesday early in March, as she’s running around the track after school, someone joins her. Not someone she knows well. Daisy Gray. A junior. Part of that artsy crowd. Has lots of friends. Laughs a lot. Probably always has the right answers in class.
Tanith’s never spent any time with her but now here she is, matching Tanith’s pace like it’s not a thing. She’s a head taller, all long pale limbs and flying blond ponytail, and Tanith’s irrationally jealous because Daisy’s gorgeous and makes this look easy. Like the bitch doesn’t even sweat or get tired. Daisy doesn’t say anything. She just runs alongside Tanith, speeding up or slowing down as necessary, even when Tanith breaks into a sprint to try and ditch her.
When they’re done, Tanith’s exhausted and pissed, and Daisy just gives her this innocent smile before jogging away in a different direction. Tanith’s like… what the fuck just happened, and she stalks home, confused and angry. That night Dinah, is extra aggressive, roaming the streets like she can find a way out if she looks hard enough.
Tanith sees Daisy in school, but they don’t even acknowledge each other. Like yesterday never happened. And afterwards, instead of head
Only halfway through the first lap, Daisy appears next to her. Matches her speed, and the two run side by side. There’s no way Tanith’s going to let this interloper get to her, no way she’s going to admit defeat, so she keeps running and tries very hard to pretend that Daisy’s not there. That she can’t feel the other girl’s presence, can’t hear her breathing or the sound of her footsteps. She ignores how they’re basically in sync.
What the hell kind of game is Daisy trying to play with her? She doesn’t even know Daisy, so what is this? Some kind of hazing?
She runs until she’s exhausted, and they still haven’t exchanged a single word. Which is odd. Tanith usually has lots of words for that which annoys her. Three older brothers taught her an astounding amount of profanity at an early age, and she’s mastered words as a weapon, because she knows that if she gets into a fight, a real fight, she’s just going to lose her shit and get stomped. She’s angry, not stupid. She should be telling Daisy to fuck off, already. She should be demanding answers, or threatening to shove Daisy’s head up her ass.
But no, this whole Daisy thing leaves her unsettled; when the other girl departs, Tanith wanders home in something of a head-scratching daze. That night, her dinosaur prowls restlessly, looking for something in the darkness but not finding it.
This repeats for the rest of the week. No matter where she goes to run, there’s Daisy. And impossibly, they still haven’t spoken to each other. Not at school, not on the track, not in the park. It’s like they coexist without acknowledging one another, save when they accidentally lock eyes. Then it’s a smile on Daisy’s part, an increasingly-perplexed glare on Tanith’s.
She wants to feel violated. After all, Daisy’s invading her space, getting all up in her business…but at the same time, she’s not that bad. After a week of this, Tanith’s resigned to the fact that Daisy’s going to show up and keep her company and maybe she doesn’t hate it.
At night, though, her dinosaur is riled up like a motherfucker, roaring at thin air, knocking over trash cans, racing down empty streets like a toddler on speed. Tanith’s sleep is fitful, unsatisfying. Everything feels off-kilter, and she can’t get it together to snap and snarl at people like usual. She spends her days in sullen silence, and when she does talk, it’s without the usual bite in her tone.
Finally, she’s had enough. It’s Wednesday and after she and Daisy have run through the park for a while, she speaks. “What the fuck is this?”
Daisy doesn’t respond.
“Is this some sort of stalking thing, because it’s really fucking weird.”
Nothing.
“Is this a dyke thing, because you’re not my type and I’ve seen you sucking face with guys.”
Not a damn thing.
“Why won’t you leave me alone, Goddamit?” Tanith hears the whine in her voice and hates it—hates it. She’s not whiny.
Daisy come to a halt, so suddenly that Tanith’s about a dozen steps ahead before she realizes something’s happened. This is the part where she should keep going. Ditch the bitch. But she stumbles to a stop as well, and just stares at Daisy. She folds her arms.
“Do you really want to be alone?” asks Daisy. She’s not judging, there’s nothing but honest curiosity in her voice.
This is the first time anyone’s actually asked Tanith what she wants in she can’t remember how long. It’s always been “Do this…or else. Don’t do that…or else.” Parents who expect her to obey them when they’re not ignoring her. Brothers who don’t want her around. Teachers who’ve long since run out of fucks to give.
Finally, she just shrugs, jerks her head in a gesture Daisy’s free to interpret however she wants, and takes off down the trail again at her usual steady pace. A minute passes, then Tanith feels the familiar presence at her side. It makes her smile inside. Just a tiny bit. But that warmth tickles her heart. It’s surprising. Her dinosaur stirs grumpily deep within, as though disturbed in its sleep. But Tanith wills it to chill out, and it does.
Tanith and Daisy are silent for the rest of the run, and they part ways without any further discussion. But now that Tanith is pretty sure it’s not a stalker thing or a lesbian thing or a weird prank, she’s not so uncomfortable. She tries a friendly nod, the sort of thing that suggests “I don’t hate you at the moment,” and stalks away before she can see how Daisy responds.
They encounter each other in the cafeteria at school the next day, and Tanith is caught by surprise, so much that she just stares at Daisy, at a loss for words. Christ, it’s been so long since she’d had a friendly conversation that she forgets how it goes. She’s so much better at telling people to get the fuck out of her way, or just shoving past them, and she’s used to throwing insults rather than greetings, and….
“Hey,” says Daisy casually.
“Hey,” says Tanith, like there’s a damn echo.
And that’s that. They go their separate ways, Daisy to join the artsy kids at their table full of color and laughter, and Tanith to her corner of solitude, where she hides behind a glare and some math homework due next period.
When Daisy doesn’t show up on time for their run that afternoon, Tanith starts working herself into a royal pissyfit, her anger quickly ramping from annoyed to incandescent. She knew this would happen as soon as she let her guard down and started to care about someone else. Abandoned. Let down. This was probably that bitch Daisy’s intention all along. Build her up, throw her away.
She channels her fury into her legs, picking up the pace until she’s practically sprinting, and she can pretend that the wind in her face is making her cry. If she’s fast enough, she can outrace her feelings. Deep inside, her dinosaur stretches, roars, shakes the cage of her heart. It wants to be free. She wants to unleash it.
Then Daisy’s beside her, and for once she doesn’t look all put-together and chill. She’s frazzled and breathing hard and Tanith understands it’s from trying to catch her. Good. She forces the pace a while longer before dialing it back to a more sedate speed. She studiously ignores Daisy, of course.
“Alvarez caught me before I could escape. She wanted to talk about my final paper for European History.” It’s not an apology. Tanith would probably have tripped Daisy for apologizing. She’s okay with the explanation. They continue on in their usual silence, and when they’re done, Tanith pauses a moment. Words struggle to be free, but she’s not sure they’re the right ones. So instead she dismisses her friend—wait, friend? When did that happen? —with a nod.
That night, she falls asleep still trying to sort through her confusion. Why? Why is Daisy doing this? Why is Tanith okay with it? The confusion carries over to Dinah the dinosaur, far less aggressive than usual as she stalks the dream streets, frequently pausing to sniff the air and roar as if expecting a response.
It takes Tanith several more days before she finally lets herself take the next—irrevocable—step. After the run, she says, in a voice more accustomed to harshness than shyness, “I need a drink.”
Daisy’s smile almost blinds her. And that’s how they end up sharing a park bench with cold bottles of water purchased from a vending machine, a bag of barbecue corn chips between them. That was Daisy’s idea, but she offered to share without a second thought. It gives them both something to crunch on while the heavy silence settles around them.
“Why?” asks Tanith at last.
“Because you’re not the only one with a dinosaur inside her,” says Daisy blithely. She eats a corn chip, washes it down with a swig of water.
The fuck. Tanith just stares at her. Tries to drill into that pretty blonde head with her laser vision of doom. Fails.
“I call mine Sue. After the T-rex skeleton in the Museum of Natural History in Chicago.”
The double fuck.
“When I was little, I used to wish I could turn into her, and stomp around and eat everyone who was mean to my dads,” says Daisy. “I wanted to terrorize everyone who didn’t understand that love is love. I was always so scared that something would happen to my family, and I wanted to be big and strong and fierce enough to protect them.” She shrugged. “I was really anxious as a kid.”
