An owl travels far to find the sacred waters of transformation, and meets a creature who’s already survived the changes.

Today’s story is “I Once Fell in Love With a Jackalope” by Chase Anderson, who is a speculative fiction writer, computer meddler, and internet bird. This story was first printed in Small Wonders and you can find more words, both interactive and not, on his website, chasej.xyz.

Read for you by Rob MacWolf — werewolf hitchhiker.

thevoice.dog | Apple podcasts | Spotify | Google Podcasts

If you have a story you think would be a good fit, you can check out the requirements, fill out the submission template and get in touch with us.

https://thevoice.dog/episode/i-once-fell-in-love-with-a-jackalope-by-chase-anderson

You’re

listening

to

Pride

Month

on

The

Voice

of

Dog.

This

is

Rob MacWolf,

your

fellow traveler,

and

Today’s

story

is “I

Once

Fell

in

Love

With

a

Jackalope”

by

Chase

Anderson,

who

is

a

speculative

fiction

writer,

computer

meddler,

and

internet

bird.

This story

was

first

printed

in

Small

Wonders

and

you

can

find

more

words,

both

interactive

and

not,

on

his

website, chasej.xyz.

The

advantage

of

furry

literature

is

that

animals

may

be

both

symbolic

archetypes,

and

also

merely

themselves.

Someone

may

be

a

lion because

they are brave, or merely

because they are a lion. Someone may be a

dog

because

they

are

loyal

and

lovable, or

merely

because

they

are

a dog.

Someone

may

be

an

owl

because

they

represent

the

voice

of

wisdom,

or

merely

because

an

owl

is

what

that

person

happens

to

be.

Or

both.

The

reader

is

left

no

choice

but

to

accept

that

our

stories

mean

only

what

we

mean

for

them

to

mean.

The

utility

for

this,

for

queer

narratives

and

metaphors,

is

obvious.

But

then,

animal

characters

may

be

queer

metaphors,

and

queer

people

may

be

animal

metaphors,

or

both

may be

merely

ourselves.

Please

enjoy


“I

Once

Fell in Love With

a

Jackalope”

by

Chase

Anderson

I

once

fell

in

love

with

a

jackalope.

He’d

been

born

a

hare,

he

told

me,

but

came

to

the

mist-kissed

coast

where

the

magic

flowed

plentiful

to

become

what

he

should

have always

been.

He

was

the

first

animal I

ever

met

who

was

brave

enough

to

ablate

in

the

sacred

waters.
When

I

first

saw

his

scars,

I

imagined

him

fighting

other

bucks,

the nameless

predators

from

beyond

the

tall

grass,

the

honor

and

glory

anointing

his

body

forevermore.

He

laughed

when

I

asked

about

his

battles.

These

were

marks

of

the

change,

shouldn’t

I

recognize

them?
I

looked

at

my

short

wings,

my

too-long

legs.

I

tried

to

imagine

the

scars

I

would

get,

once

I

found

the

courage,

once

everything

was

made

right.
It’ll

be

easy,

he

said,

and

then

told

me

how

the

change

nearly

killed

him.
#
I

once

fell

in

love

with

a Gila

monster.

He

loved

me,

too,

at

some

point,

and

it

had

burnt

away

with

each

morning’s sunrise

until

it

was

gone.

But

he

liked

the

burrows

I

dug,

and

I

needed

someone

familiar.

So,

when

I’d

wanted

to

go

to

the

land

of

never

winters

and

magic

waters,

he

came,

too.
It

was

only

once

we

settled

in,

once

I

met

the

jackalope,

that

I

told

him

I

was

born

the

wrong

kind

of

owl.

I

should

be

flying

through

silent

nights

with

eyes

the

black

of

newest

moon.

I

should

be

living

in

a

tree,

listening

to

the

wind

whispering

through

the

sequoias and

not

the

long

grass.
It

was

over,

he

told

me.

I

knew

it would

happen,

that

there

was

no

way

he

could

live

in

my

someday

tree,

and

still

my

world

collapsed.
#
I

once

fell

in

love

with

a

mountain.

There

lived

the

jackalope’s

friends,

a

bear

and

a

cougar

and

a hind,

where

we

stole

away

from

the

land

of

ever

summer.

The

air

was

always

cold-clear

and

snow

hid

in

the

shadows

of

the

pines.

We

kept

warm

at

night

with

fire,

meat,

and

stories.

We

kept

hot

in

day

with

feats

of

strength,

striking

down

imaginary

foes

and

prey.
I

could

take

down

nothing

mightier

than

a

cricket,

and

we

all

knew

it,

yet

they

included

me.
The

jackalope

told

of

all

the

places

he’d

been,

rivers

full

of

leaping

fish

and

dancing

newts,

rivers

boiling

under

thin

crusts,

rivers

of

light

that

turned

the

snow

green.
He

would

take

me,

he

told

me,

he’d

take

everyone,

and

we’d dance

under

new

stars

and

tell

new

tales.

And

then,

maybe,

I’d

be

brave

enough

to

change.

To

finally

become

a

real

predator

instead

of

wearing

the

feathers

of

one.
#
I

once

fell

in

love

with

a

storm.

When

I

was

still

an

owlet,

back

on

the

coast

of

stones.

It

had

been

a

beautiful,

warm

morning,

and

the

sun

still

shone

as

the

sky

boomed

and

rain

punished the

leaves.

The

winds

held

the

promise

of

powers,

and

it

was

there

for

me

to

shape,

to

take,

if

only

my

body

were

different.
Jackalopes

only

mate

during

storms,

he

told

me.

It

was

why

his

scars

healed

in

their

sacred

image. It

was

why

I

felt

electricity

across

the

teeth

of

silent

wings

I’d

been

too

cowardly

to

grow.

It

was

why

he

never

touched

me

the

way

I

needed.
#
I

once

fell

in

love

with

a

story.

The

jackalope’s burrow

collapsed.

He

needed

shelter.

I

offered

my

burrow,

where

there

was

barely

room

for

me.

The

bear,

the

cougar,

the hind,

they

offered

their

mountain,

where

there

was

room

for

a

thousand

jackalopes.
But

he

would

leave,

live

with

a

newt

he

once

knew.

Only

for

a

time,

for

he’d

return.

He

loved

these

animals,

this

mountain, the

magical

waters

that

let

him

grow

his

tines

and

the

muscles

to

dance

in

storms.
Once

his

journey’s

complete, he’d

sing

for

us,

for

the

next

time

we

gathered

on

the

mountain,

and

we’d

still

dance

together.

We

left

him

a

spot

by

the

fire,

his

favorite

cut

of

meat,

and

we

all

opened

our

hearts

to

the

wind,

to

hear

his

promised

song.
#
I

once

fell

in

love

with

a jackalope.

We

hadn’t

heard

his

song

that

night,

or

any

other.

And

so

I

find

the

tallest

mountain,

and

climb its

tallest

tree,

with

the

awkward

legs and

weak

wings

I

so

hate

but

he

said

he

didn’t

mind.
Owls

aren’t

admired

for

their

songs,

and

yet

I

sing,

with

the

voices

of

all

the

other

animals

I’ve

known,

that

I’ve

loved,

the

shapes

of

nature

and

the

shapes

of

him,

of

the

flickers

of

antler

I’ve

thought

I

saw

in

the

grass,

expecting

him

to

pull

me

into

his

dance

of

storms.
My

heart

beats

hard

as

I

wait

his

answer,

as

if

I’m

pumping

my

wings

to

greet

him,

to

bring

him

home.

And

then,

softly,

it

arrives.

He

heard

my

song,

he

tells

me,

in

thumps

that

travel

endless

miles.

He

thought

it

quite

lovely.

It’s

a

wonderful

gift

he

gladly

accepts,

and he’ll

soon

return

it

in

kind.
So,

each

day

I

return

to

the

tree,

needles

raking

through

feathers

not

meant

for

these

heights.

As

I

wait,

I

see

the

spring,

the

waters

that

I’ve

wanted

so

badly,

but

am

always

too

afraid

to

greet.
And

then,

one

day,

a

great

storm

builds

on

the

horizon.

It

buffets

the

tree,

but

I

hold

firm.

I

wish

my

eyes

strong

enough

to

see

him

dance,

if

only

to

feel

in

my

hollow

bones

how his

feet

thump

the

thirsty

ground.
Finally,

I

hear

his

song,

the

muffled

slaps

of

amphibious

feet

in

bubbling

mud,

the

lightning

cracks

reflected

upon

slimy

skin,

casting

his

new

home,

his

new

love,

aglow.
I

turn

from

the

storm,

the

mountain,

and,

then,

the

tree.

My

wings

tuck

tight

as

the

winds

carry

me

to

the

spring

and

its

new

world

promised

upon

the

other

side.






This

was “I

Once

Fell

in

Love

With

a

Jackalope”

by

Chase Anderson,

read

for

you by Rob MacWolf,

Werewolf

Hitchhiker.

You

can

find

more

stories

on

the

web

at

thevoice.dog,

or

find

the

show

wherever

you

get

your

podcasts.

Happy

Pride,

and

Thank

you

for

listening

to

The

Voice

of Dog.