Windward Review Vol. 20 (2022): Beginnings and Endings

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Natasha Haas A Gnawing Empty Everyone has such a gnawing empty. That bottomless blank in their breadbasket, needin’ to gnaw, seekin’ a full belly. Whatta greedy little fuck though, aint it? Oh...bottomless blank in my breadbasket, blinding light, colossal cannibal rage. Shit, such a needy fucking monster, aren’t you? Come closer vittles sweetbread, I’ll explain. Whites wide blind eye, cannibal rattle cage. Vittles alone can’t sate ravenous ways! Closer still little sweetbreads, understand? Isn’t it simple? Plain: Eye want to eat you. No vittles satisfy our vulgar ways. Give tongue, barbacoa. Such savory spice. It is simple, right? You eat my eye too. We gorge on vicious fluid, broken bone. Tear my tongue, my teeth gnaw on your cheek needin’ to grow, seekin’ a full belly. We gorge on vicious fluid, broken bones… Everyone is such a gnawing empty. 27 Windward Review Volume 20
Edward Wang Embers of Ambition It stood perfectly upright and centered in full view when she opened the door to the new place. In every respect, a monkey’s paw was a strange thing to encounter, certainly nothing that Antimony remembered ever purchasing or being gifted, and definitely something that the white-glove moving service failed to notify her of when they moved and unpacked the bulk of her items. Box in hand, she skirted around the disembodied limb to set her burden down and went back to the moving van to retrieve everything else. Then, she locked the door on her way out and drove off. The macabre thing was still present when she returned. She squatted down to almost eye-level and stared to confirm its existence. It was definitely a desiccated hand of some primate or another with bristled, dark hair around what was left of an arm, thick padding on the palm, and five fingers slightly too long to belong to a human. That Antimony couldn’t identify the species to which it could have belonged was no concern. She was more preoccupied, however ridiculous the notion, about whether the thing before her was merely a monkey’s paw or The Monkey’s Paw of literary horror. A matter to ponder later when she wasn’t still in the process of moving and settling in. Antimony strode over to the kitchen and returned armed with a pair of metal tongs. She gingerly grasped the monkey’s paw, noted it felt very much like handling a light length of wood, and deposited it deep into a nearby alcove where it was out of the way but clearly in full view. There was no visible residue or hair on the tongs but she washed them with hot water and soap as a matter of course. She didn’t bother much with the monkey paw beyond moving it around as she cleaned and organized the rest of her possessions. Ill-fated, wish-granting item or decidedly not, she wasn’t much for touching it in general and gladly sacrificed one of her tongs to keep it at length. Nothing seemed to happen while she handled it and it thankfully didn’t move itself from day to day. The idea of tossing it out was considered and dismissed, being more reassured in keeping it in sight and harboring the slight paranoia of it reasserting itself back into her life somehow. The novelty of its appearance soon wore thin against the more menial tasks in her life. Most of those came with moving to an entirely different place, but there was still much cleaning to do, figurative fires to put out, a new job to be bored at, and every other adult thing to deal with in daily life. Social interactions were not one of those things. Work people stayed as work people and none of her neighbors stopped by to say “hi”. To be fair, she chose a residence that was just remote enough that people had to try and she had little initiative to introduce herself. Online groups satisfied her low minimums for interactions and the only people she saw more frequently than her coworkers were the various couriers who made the long trips to her property. Antimony supposed that, were she to ever entertain visitors, the monkey paw didn’t particularly stand out among her collections of books, figures, trinkets, and generally interesting clutter she failed to curate during the Beginnings X Endings 28
Page 1: Beginnings and Endings Windward Rev
Page 4 and 5: Managing Editor Dylan Lopez Assista
Page 6 and 7: Barrio Writers’ Project 2023 Lett
Page 8 and 9: Nehemiah Flores Jukebox Heart (Illu
Page 10 and 11: Joseph Tyler Wilson My Story Begins
Page 12 and 13: Ava Coronado Sibling Harmony Summer
Page 14 and 15: why everything felt so right. I lov
Page 16 and 17: We’re all the same, yet so differ
Page 18 and 19: Raye Bailey She Remembers Impressed
Page 20 and 21: he had nothing to say. Donny still
Page 22 and 23: might do. But Donny wouldn’t wear
Page 24 and 25: Aliah Candia Black Sheep I am the b
Page 26 and 27: Kaitlyn Winston You’re Hungry Whe
Page 30 and 31: move. The display of it was wanting
Page 32 and 33: occurred as opposed to being sad th
Page 34 and 35: Dee Allen The Southern poor—La Ra
Page 36 and 37: Dee Allen Morning Alarm It’s morn
Page 38 and 39: M. Alis Spencer The painting depict
Page 40 and 41: Zev Edwards Here Today Who would’
Page 42 and 43: Last Christmas, it rained. Shaking
Page 44 and 45: Steve Brisendine circuitous reasoni
Page 46 and 47: Steve Brisendine Nativity Identical
Page 48 and 49: Gibel Amador Love’s immortality I
Page 50 and 51: Leonard Duncan An Epilogue It’s a
Page 52 and 53: But she seemed so terribly tired, w
Page 54 and 55: (Apologies weren’t included— I
Page 56 and 57: I remember that half an hour down,
Page 58 and 59: Charity McCoy “The complexity of
Page 60 and 61: Charity McCoy Depression: Clean Bre
Page 62 and 63: Jessica Grissom The Book with a Cup
Page 64 and 65: Jesus Fernando Ochoa Arreola Me Acu
Page 66 and 67: Jesus Fernando Ochoa Arreola Routin
Page 68 and 69: Jesus Fernando Ochoa Arreola Mi Alm
Page 70 and 71: steady my breath. Dad was gone. I s
Page 72 and 73: Thảo Ðinh Butterflies are beauti
Page 74 and 75: Coryna Trevino ocean blue eyes full
Page 76 and 77: Elizabeth Motes “The Five Stages
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She’d been watching Jason, his br
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Four A week passed with no word fro
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Bitia Alanis “For the mockingbird
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Alyssa-Rae Barrera A soft, hummed,
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Eva Buergler EulogyforDr.BfinalFINA
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In a way I’m supposed to be dead.
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Congratulations, Barrio Writers 202
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Sophia Chapa Sophia Chapa has been
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would be giving good money to the g
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Janet Doe Janet Doe, an upcoming 9t
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K. Elise Homeschooled her entire li
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Evolvere (Derek) Evolvere is his pe
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Sophie Johnson Tiny Little Creature
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Leo Monsavais Leo is fifteen years
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Isadora Pak Isadora Pak is a first-
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Aleena Roy Aleena Roy is a 17-year-
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Emily Hargitai Esther ‘98 Ticonde
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time deco-rating our manila folders
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Once she’s done laughing and the
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John C. Mannone una lección Los ni
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John C. Mannone Tinted Glasses Dece
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Corita Fernando Mourning Loss “I
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Today I learnt that you weren’t a
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Jacob Benavides Deep in the Heart W
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Jacob Benavides To The Grounds We T
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Amairani Llerena And So Lived Dad I
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Amairani Llerena Woe Is Me I wallow
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She said the words, whispered them,
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That night Peggy began rummaging th
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“Who goes there?” The old woman
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Suzette Bishop After Class A floati
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Carlos Rodriguez Coyote Lullaby Daw
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Carlos Rodriguez Martel Deserts A b
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Ron Pullins Reiner Reiner’s fathe
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From time-to-time Reiner showers th
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Jean Hackett Elegy For the One that
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Arik Mitra Arid Breast No great sec
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Arik Mitra The rose returns to bloo
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Daniel Rodrigues-Martin A GRAIN OF
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question marks wondering what our r
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“She’s from Atlanta. I met her
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“Whoa.” He nods enthusiasticall
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“Same,” she says. The other bar
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It’s facing her and she reads it.
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Azrael Montoya Some Poem Some words
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Laura Treacy Bently Cellar Door The
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Sai Varshini Chinnasani Twas the Jo
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Contributors’ Notes Bitia Alanis
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Sophia Chapa has been creative sinc
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Azrael Montoya: “I was born in Co
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177 Windward Review Volume 20
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Windward Review Vol. 20 (2022): Beginnings and Endings

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