Something has gone terribly wrong

Once or twice, when I was a kid, I ran away from a T-Rex. I got inside just in time to press a double-hung door closed with my back. The ground shook with each step the dinosaur took towards me, but it became even scarier when the world fell silent. I woke up from the nightmare each time (apologies for the writing-cliché) with a pounding heart and concern that the beast would be right outside if I was brave enough to go look.

Fear of a beast is also what this peek behind the submission-curtain felt like to me, except the T-Rex was just the fear I would somehow massively fuck up, and Foofaraw’s downfall would have my initials scrawled in the rubble. Naturally, much like being chased by a dinosaur, that was highly unlikely—which I can only thank Kevin for. He placed an insane amount of trust in me, and still did most of the work (thank you, king!), never once throwing me to the dinosaurs. You can also thank him for the tidbit about my nightmare; it was his idea I include it in the intro months before we started sorting through submissions.

Proverbial beasts aside, a real dinosaur is something amazing. Not just for the obvious reasons, but because they can make you feel small; even if none of us were around to see them in real time and even if we’re talking about those chicken-like ones (I bet they were ankle-biters.)

Feeling small is a theme I think is most prominent with the amazing stories and poems we curated for this issue—whether the dinosaur is a metaphor, very hungry, or simply bones. I hope that’s the feeling every reader will come across with this very first Someone Else’s September; not to feel insignificant but to find comfort in knowing there was something greater and bigger than all of us once. And, of course, there is also comfort in not being the one trapped in the jaws of a toothy beast… yet.

—Megan