No one close to me has ever died. I did experience the loss of my great-grandmother several years ago, but as she was over 100 years old, it was hardly surprising. And I wouldn't say we were close. Otherwise, I have never known anyone to die.

In part I would say that I'm lucky. Mainly, though, I fear that this may not be good luck at all. I fear that death may be something like the chicken pox or tonsillitis - the older you are when you catch it, the worse it is. When death finally does come knocking at my emotional door, I believe I will likely be ill prepared.

Perhaps because of my lack of personal experience, I find death a little fascinating. I have asked the contributors to theCorporal to shed some light on death in this issue. What stands out the most in the submissions has been the disproportionate amount of poetry I received. It seems that death is difficult to pin down, and many of our writers prefer to speak of it in somewhat more abstract terms.

Even the most indirect looks at the subject contained in this issue, though, are poignant and tend to induce reflection, at least in me. I hope you will enjoy the third issue of this growing project: DEATH.

-dominique

contents:

page1: Not About Jack by Ben Wolfson

page2: The Siren Never Sleeps by John Darling

page3: Autopsy by Kayla Champaigne

page4: Eyes by Richard Barfield

page5: poems by Shane Horn

page6: Don't Hold Your Breath Too Long by Mariah Cagle

page7: Arise Chimera by Kayla Champaigne

page8: Don't Try to Get to Heaven by Richard Barfield

page9: Eleven Hours by Matthew Martell