Monera Mason is a mischief-maker.  Her work includes: starting questionable cults with notorious software gurus, writing abstract fiction, catalyzing shenanigans which she deploys on unsuspecting bystanders in the City of Neon. 

Dreaming Short Stories

Adaline felt that knot of anger forming. It started in her intestines looping into intricate precision adding in layers of veins and muscle until it was one pulsing entity. They say the endless knot is the interplay between dualistic ideas crossing each other until there is no beginning or end. There seemed to be no duality just anger and pain tracing itself inside her.

A walk to the square where the fountain is. Quaint geometry would help unravel this feeling. Encounter the brush strokes of spring, lilacs, pale yellows, bright snapdragons. She tried to fill her mind with the counting of steps. Thirty steps forward and turn left twenty-two.

Her brain betrayed her and would only trace the looping knot. How was it that each pass seemed to be underneath? It became a walkway where an HO scaled version of her self would pass under nine gray stone bridges. Never leaving the confines of samsara.

Finding herself suddenly at the square, she noticed a crow pecking at the remains of a stuffed bear. Time spent in a dryer had matted its ragged brown-grey fur. Some naughty mommy didn't know the proper care for teddies. Talons dug into the belly of the bear squishing white batting through the slashes. The face was the victim of many beaked attempts to remove the eyes.

Murderous crow!

The bird stared at Adeline and flexed its wings never releasing its prisoner.

Let it go!

A single caw of fuck you. It resumed picking at the glassy black eye.

The knot burned through her exploding into the square. The scattershot of hatred ricochet across the square. Bearings of rage, indignation, and sadness echoing across stone surfaces and shattering glass.

Fluttering blackness filled the sky.

They descended upon her this cauldron of crows. Slicing at her arms, talons holding fast. Instinct balled her to the cobblestone facedown to protect her eyes. A navy of prows launched offensive maneuvers taking tiny morsels from her. Weak against the ravishing, her body wept bloody tears.

Eat me I am poised anyhow. Soft words found resignation.

Get up, she heard over the cawing madness. You will stand.

I will succumb.

These crows are yours. Drive them from the square Adeline.

Dark tobacco pointed cowboy boots stood a foot away from her face. She tried to turn her face skyward, but instead, she met black wings and claws.

Who are you?

Adeline. Find yourself in silence it is the place of answers.

There was a cakestand her mother used for the gold-leafed hearts chocolate cakes that marked each solar rotation. The stand trimmed in stiff ceramic lace, and the starry dome protected its sugar charges from the elements. The handle was a moon. She found her scaled self on the cold porcelain. Her grandmother was smiling at her underneath the glass.

The crows were etching the glass, marring the stars.

Warmth flooded her; brightness proceeds to stillness.

As the crow flutters and flies, it vanishes to butterflies.

The square filled with thousands of tissue paper butterflies who caught the wind and confettied down around her.

Orange and yellow paper wing fragments clung to his black clothing.

What did the silence say?

Fight darkness with light.

Did you?

Girlish silliness is all, a stupid weapon against terror.

A child's wonderment has moved men to do remarkable things, Adeline. Did the knot untangle?

It tore.

Why do you let it build?

It regenerates.

Maybe you feed it?

This world is ugly; bile has stained my dress, rough fingers have violated me. Life is bitter wormwood without the hope of arsenic.

A cloud-blue cloth instead of knots?

My hearts fragments hidden in the knotting, a clever binding.

Adeline bound her heart to hate.

Adeline loves no more.

It's time we were formally introduced, Adeline. I am the Dreamkeeper. This will not do.

Ritual in Coffee

First Instalment