when i am rich

i feed the poor

and cure the sick

there is no more debt

and i give everyone a bed to sleep in

i go to my childhood home

and buy it back

i paint the walls green

i buy a landline

and dig out the old mattress

from the bottom of the dumpster

i eat a whole tub of cool whip in one sitting

i spill gatorade on the white carpet

i unlearn what stocks are

and plant a fully-grown pine tree in the backyard

i take the bus to sarah's

and we sit in the driveway

drinking soda and then

we lose every round of kick the can

because we always hide in the same places

i looked down from a safe

and private haven

with eyes of spirit deep

unclouded by the film

of crooked,

pagan politics' stain

upon a green room stage

i saw with unblemished

eyes

and mind clear of spell

a thin man

with neck just as thin,

awful specters surrounded him

appearing in suits and gowns

applauding,

like normal humans

his bulging eyes,

straining hard

to sift,

to steal some truth

to feed concocted lies

spilling venom

from a wicked heart

from the depths

i saw arise

streams of vile

phantoms

swirling

spinning

round his head

as on the stage

of myriad lights

and cameras aimed

at his sickly jaundiced face

his words flowed

and struck the air

reverberating throughout

the webs

near and far

worldwide

some believed

others did not

with mind

and soul,

eyes wearied of lies,

i witnessed hypnotic

poison words spewed,

words to kill

and did,

and does,

the young

the middle

and the old,

while i saw him soundly sleep

upon his bed

unaffected

undaunted

unreflective

of his own mortality,

his aging skin

his greed within

upheld by world's power

gollum's breed

. . . and i wondered,

how long before,

the truth and bright,

light

of vindication,

will arise

and arouse

the slow to wake,

for angel spirits

to take,

with all his ilk,

off the illuminati stage,

and us to see,

from every rooftop,

no hidden ploys

the liberation

of the populace,

free of mind control

. . . and it will come

the expose is even now progressing

and will

come to its climactic

end

’Guidelines

• ’The story must be original, fictional, written in either Japanese or English by the submitting author and never been published (even online).The use of generative artificial intelligence and plagiarism in the creation of submitted stories is prohibited. Please contact the organizers at imaginelittletokyo@gmail.comfor any clarifications.

• ’The same story submitted in a previous year cannot be resubmitted.

• ’The setting of the story should be in Little Tokyo – either past, present or future.

• ’Submitted manuscript should be 2,500 words or less for English or 5,000 ji or less for Japanese and have a title.

• ’File should be a Microsoft Word doc, docx or rtf.

• ’For English-language entries, please use 12 point font, preferably Times Roman or Courier type and double space.

• ’Please remove any mention of your name from your short story, including headers.

• ’The short story manuscript must be submitted digitally as an e-mail attachment to Imaginelittletokyo@gmail.com (include SHORT STORY  in the subject line). In the e-mail message, please include your name,phone number and age if 18 or under.

• ’The submissions should include a signed agreement, which can be found on the Little Tokyo Historical Society website. The agreement can be either e-mailed or sent via US Postal Service.

• ’Submissions need to be e-mailed by February 28, 2025, 12 midnight PST. NO EXCEPTIONS.

• ‘Immediate family members of judges (first-round or final) are ineligible.’

Eyeballs plucked &..

Fire spreading through the town..

Beastlings— prowling ’bout!

#CORVUS Monday, 01.27.2025

https://youtu.be/HU0wvt3EihM?si=mBPamDH6Ykorir4v

I can feel

My neurons blackening.

Smoking

As if they were incense,

The haze

Wafting toward the ceiling

Of my quiet room.

The burn is silent,

But it seethes

As pieces of myself

Crumble into a tray

Like sandalwood

And resin does,

And I shrink into

The floral scent

Of my own ashes.