B Myers writes stories that span fantasy, magical realism, and mythopoeic Americana.

“Bing Bleumen, apothecary extraordinaire, inspired elixator, posologist prodigy, master blender of teas and brewer of barms, raconteur of roots and racemes, intrepid explorer of flowers and fungi in the woods, fields, and tangled riverbanks of the Great Wild Woods, and wearer of florid tunics and breeches as well, enjoyed a curious acclaim among the inhabitants of Glimmy Town. His blends were brilliant, his extractions pure and potent, his elixirs ingenious in their efficacy, and his inebriants highly regarded. The town always equipped him handsomely with everything he needed, and his exploratory vim was lauded all the way down the sunset tunnel to the little bolt-hole where he would be clapped firmly on the shoulder and pushed out.   

Then began the cleaning of stained floors and walls, the capture of roving lichens, the removal of uncouth jellies, the sequestration of feral putties, and the general sanitizing of the apothecary wing. . .”

     —Bleumen’s Smoking Putty for Ethero-Lithic Transmutation

     “Soon they were all inside, vaulting to the counters above. Though Icki and his belly might have dreamt of garish desserts, Dimber had once seen part of a waffle cone in the driveway, and the church cake still lurked in some of their beards, most of the colored sweets and syrups in this strange little building were exotic to them. Jan found a cup and he and Coot went on a tasting down a row of containers, Jan holding the cup below, and Coot stomping on the sticky spigots. Dimber pushed up a lid and disappeared into a bin of sticky white flakes. Sugar beads and sprinkles were soon arcing through the air as Caklin and Ruddy exchanged volleys. . .”

     —The Strubly Browns

     “Old tales have been told about strange seeds that must pass through the belly fire of rare beasts before they will sprout and grow. There are also stories of creatures eating things that then bloom in their bellies and grow out of them from within. In some far regions, certain birds will carry seeds great distances, dropping them into the embers of fires, where they uncurl into shapes like flames. There are even creatures who live within other creatures, just waiting for their hosts to eat the leaves of a single plant at a certain time, and who then use the plant’s virtues to bring about an orphic transformation. Sometimes a natural progression has been altered—by teeth, talons, or sly fingers—to achieve an unnatural end. By design or by accident, or perhaps a little of both. . .”

     —Born of Three Nells

     “There were sanctuaries under the tree roots, and halls below them. There, in some guarded chamber, it would be the work of a day: The tooth would yield a small amount of dust, but its potency could be told in grains. Ground and mixed with milkweed floss and cicada wings, it would barely fill a mortar. Added to creek water and hackberry sap, it would just fill an urn hardly as tall as a young Chaffy. But after being shaken and spoken over, it would change, ready to be measured out drops at a time, good for several seasons. Anointed Chaff, along with their entrances and paths, their shaded gardens and grottoes, would go unseen. . .”

     —The Moon Disc

Nothing from a can.