Illustration: Fantasy
The Butterfly Hunter
On the days he is not hunting, the Butterfly Hunter walks through the meadows and spends hours watching. Nevertheless, he always carries his net; one must never go out unprepared.
Do not worry, he only practices catch-and-release. He hunts them, studies them, admires them, and loves them. He whispers something kind into their ears in that silent language butterflies speak, and then he sets them free.
Some butterflies return to live in his beard because they love poems so much. Others, the wilder ones, return to the trees and the backs of horses and elephants, for they prefer the fresh air.
Art and text by Emmanuel Cerino
The Foot Bug
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On the shelves of this museum—as ancient as magic itself—reside hundreds of strange creatures. Some possess more parts than we would deem correct; others, far fewer.
But of all the species preserved there, one stands out. Frozen in the surprised pose of its capture, within its own glass showcase, dwells a Foot Bug.
Named for its oversized lower extremities, the Foot Bug is known for its ability to cling to the ankles of its prey with stony tenacity. To achieve this, it possesses long arms and strong, rough fingers. Most curious of all is that those who carry a Foot Bug might never notice its presence, thanks to the soft, effective grip its limbs provide.
One might only spot it by looking down and inspecting the feet with care. However, due to the affinity this species has developed for speed, they generally go unnoticed. There are no known side effects from contact with a Foot Bug; they are simply interested in being carried from one place to another. Because fast runners are usually in a hurry—paying attention
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Art and text by Emmanuel Cerino
The Photophagus
"Is it a particle? Is it a wave?" thinks the Photophagus as he swallows his delicious snack.
Hundreds of eyes crown his head—organs destined for sadness. For once the Photophagus has finished the task for which he was summoned into this universe, he will be the master of eyes perfectly capable of seeing, but in a world where he has swallowed every last beam of light. There will be only darkness.
A terrible food for an uncontrollable appetite. Lacking mass, photons never satisfy his hunger; for the Photophagus, eating light is like trying to live on air that tastes of chocolate. He will never feel full. When his task is complete, he will sit in the void, destined to see nothing and swallow nothing.
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Art and text by Emmanuel Cerino
