A Dead Vampire by Madeline Dyer
...You've no idea how incredibly guilty I feel. I should have learnt to fight my own battles better. I can't always be relying on you, my wonderful big brother. / It’s all my fault. They’ll kill you if they find you. Mum and Dad keep telling me not to blame myself, but I can't help it. I don’t know how they can be so calm, they just sit there talking, with their mugs of ridiculously-sweet frothy coffee and their plates of sugar-coated chocolate biscuits. They must be in shock. I am, or at least I was - I don't know anymore... (added 10.16.11)
Bake Up by Erik Knutsen
She had imagined once that love was soft and squishy like carrot cake or banana bread. With Claude, it was at first, if not a little moister than she wanted. But as the initial passion wore off, she found it to be a little more light and flaky– croissants, cherry pinwheels; she found the portions bigger but less filling. / Three years of her life had been given to Claude, and she could no longer pretend that she even liked him. (added 09.01.11)
Battles Into Sunset by Susan Dale
...The Cherokee son kept his eyes to the ground searching... until he found what he was looking for; a fat log on which to sit. He plopped down on it with his shoulders and head hanging forward, and his long legs bent in v-shapes. Yanking off his socks, he unrolled his poncho to the powder that he shook on his feet. And after unrolling a pair of clean socks out from his poncho, he wiggled his feet inside of them. Then he swallowed an orange pill and several white ones; they had been rolled inside of his clean socks. But as he was tying his soiled socks around his belt in preparation of moving on, he felt the thumps of steps pounding the ground. And when he smelled the cordite of firefights, he knew that soldiers were coming... (added 04.19.11)
The Cage by Mel Waldman
I live in a cage ten stories below Grand Central Station. My master used to lock the cage and disappear for days. He left no food or water. Now, each morning when I wake up, I find food and water and discover he’s left the cage unlocked. What shall I do? Perhaps, he’s poisoned the food and contaminated the water. But I’m starving to death. I must eat. And my thirst is unbearable. I must drink to survive. After I satisfy these needs, a distant voice inside my head whispers to me: “It’s time to leave.” I cringe and shrivel up and crawl to a corner of my dark home. I close my eyes and travel to another time and place where I’m human again. (added 06.15.11)
Eugene’s Crayola Will by Kevin Ridgeway
The children’s screams were completely deafening and were centered within the plastic ball pit of Buck N. Ear’s Pizza Joy Palace. Every single tot ran to the sanctuaries of skirts and mom jeans, their heads being massaged by manicured hands. Cory was the assistant manager on duty for the night, perplexed but determined to define the cause of this strange disturbance. He clumsily tumbled through the open net and dived into the sea of multi colored balls. Cory instantly felt a human body at the pit’s abyss (added 11.21.11)
If You Bleed, It’s Your Own Business by Tyler Malone
Already the second Friday of school, seniors had yet to punish a single freshman boy for his classification, so that night, girls still filling out would be baited by bottles of Boones Farm, and freshmen boys, testicles freshly dropped, could only enjoy beer if they consented to a match in Josh’s hand-built, backyard boxing ring. / Though Josh had never beaten anyone up, he had spent all summer constructing the ring, and this would cleanse him of what he assumed was shameful blemish of non-violence. (added 08.17.11)
Just Another Juggernaut In Texas by Tyler Malone
To this trucker, 9:17 in the morning feels the same way as 9:17 in the evening. But unlike the night before, my rig’s gas gauge was nearly on E outside Vernon, a town that makes the Great Chihuahuan desert a little less bearable. The terrain seemed to be bursting with bulbous water towers, and hotel signs poked out of dead, desert soil. The gauge slept on its side in my dash -meaning empty -as I went through the town and hit the last gas station just to do it; just to go to a station a bit more out of the way and a little less busy. This place I found was full service: a rare animal. Yellow construction machines warmed unmanned on the September day in an uncompleted ditch by the filling station. (added 01.24.11)
The Marquis hates his cell by C. Goodison
The Marquis hates rotting away in this cell but has decided to make the best of it. Servants provide rich food, oysters and asparagus tips, and once a week I present myself for him to do as he wishes. For a token sum, I submit to a dozen mice gnawing at my feet or patches of bloodsuckers at my hips. He’s creative in his punishments which last until there is blood, or I am in tears, begging to be relieved. (added 03.19.11)
Michael Jackson Stole My Career by Anthony Malone
...Michael Jackson: rich as Croesus, loopier than a sack of polecats and served glasses of chilled Pepsi Cola by roller-skating monkey waiters. I make do with pork brains in milk gravy most nights and if it hadn’t been for an act of altruism on my part five years ago it'd be a fat T-bone steak for me every night, and no mistake. Fact is, I taught the King of Pop how to defy the laws of physics; and if this was a fair world that would count for something, but it isn’t, so it doesn’t. Pork brains it is. (added 07.10.11)
The Polygamist in Me by Tracie Skarbo
I wonder how much time I will have to write, free of the others droning on about how much time I spend without them. How much of my time has been taken from them to serve my fingers and thoughts with no regard for their feelings and desires? This is the constant bicker of the three spouses that I could do without... (added 07.29.11)
The Shell of Mariette by Sheree La Puma-Watson
...Mariette wakes in absence-no hangover-no headache-no parched sweet pea breath. Just lack of want or need or hunger. This is fresh uncharted territory. This has never happened before. She has never felt human. An inaccessible womb cut off from life by razor sharp blows, she has never been anyone’s daughter, wife or mother and she is tired of being everyone’s girl, bitch, and whore... (added 12.06.11)
Sunset At Mallory Square by Mel Waldman
In ancient times, I watched the sunset at Mallory Square in Key West. While I gazed at the exquisite, surreal dreamscape that engulfed me, I felt the heat of the glorious sun, my spirit moved by its majestic beauty. But its red sunset drove me mad too. Couldn’t bear the pain and agony of its beauty; couldn’t witness its celestial metamorphosis without dreaming of G-d and eternity and my unknown mission on earth. / Now, I remember those unreal nights that fed my soul. I watched street vendors and performers fill Mallory Square with a magical and hypnotic ambience. (added 02.17.11)
Taking Flight by David Meuel
...At first, Melissa didn’t like being alone with Grandma. She felt awkward and didn’t know what to say. She found Grandma hard to look at, too. She was so pale and skeleton-like that she reminded Melissa of death camp survivors from a Holocaust documentary she had seen last year in world history. And now Grandma was almost always in bed with a catheter attached to her. It was sad to watch... (added 09.29.11)
37 Windows by Jacqueline Cioffa
My parent’s house has 37 windows and countless memories. It’s the home my Mom grew up in. I know every nook and cranny; I’ve heard all her childhood tales. It’s the 37 windows that her father, an Irishman bought with a small sum and a dream.
1990 by Johnny Olson
Being so close to death, thinking it, seeing
it and smelling it brought me a new perspective
on life.
Achieving Equilibrium by Adam B. Miller
His sideburns are uneven, or at least people keep telling him that. So today he finally checked in the mirror, using his index fingers to mark the staggered black scrapings; he measured evenness. They’re off, minutely, but noticeably so. He didn’t like that.
A Familiar Face by Tony R. Rodriguez
They met. They romanced. She took chances small town minds never take. He persuaded her to move in, promises of forever love leaking from his cozy lips. They went for long walks and had deep talks. They selected special candles for their home and bought groceries together every time the refrigerator was bare and the cupboards collected dust. The two lovers dedicated music to one another, capturing moments she thought would last eternal...
At His Funeral He Still Looked Like Johnny Cash by Tyler Malone
“That sounds fine. As long as the Lord Jesus Christ doesn’t come back before then.” / This was the first response I got from my grandfather, Pawbe, when I told him I wanted to draw. / “When does Jesus want to come back?”/“We don’t know. No one does. But it’s soon.” / I didn’t respond. I just slid down the humorless, black, Star Wars slide in his backyard. In seconds I reached the bottom where Pawbe stood. He looked immense and dark, like he should have been smoking. But he never put sin to his lips. / “Why would Jesus come back before I grow up and got to go to school?”/ “Because you are a sinner, and so am I, so is everyone. We need His saving grace, so He’s coming back to destroy the earth.” (added 10.24.10)
Blood Kit by Jon Tait
Old drunk in a beat blue suit with shiny elbows slicked back brylcreemed hair arguing with himself holding a blue five pound note with one hand the other trying to put it back in the silky lining of his inside chest pocket...
BRAAAAPhooooooo! by Jim Meirose
The car goes BRAAAAPhooooooo-- / Let's see. A Remington 870 would do the job. That's a good compact shotgun. / Need an Optima Red Top Battery. This big engine takes a lot of cranking power. / The car goes BRAAAAPhooooooo-- / Or maybe I should use my Remington 1100. Nice and light, well balanced shotgun. / Need an oil filter relocation kit, with this big engine. We just barely shoehorned this monster in here. / The car goes BRAAAAPhooooooo-- (added 03.20.10)
Damage Control by Kevin Brown
It’s just a goddamn Chihuahua, you tell her and really, it’s just a goddamn Chihuahua. Leaning against the refrigerator, fresh beer in your hand, you’re careful to use the word is instead of was. She’s at the kitchen table, still crying. All because, running late for work you accidentally backed over the dog with the pick-up.
The Devil by Jon Tait
I never saw God on Ecstasy, but I did see someone who claimed to be the Devil. It was 6 a.m. and I was coming down heavily in a rave, teeth grinding and sweat drying tight on my face, hair matted. Where as earlier I could not put my hands together as some mad force pushed them apart as I brought them close, now my palms could touch and it was deflating. The magic was fading fast. It was then he appeared. Off to the side, looking on intently with a wicked Jack Nicholson intense grin. I don't know if it was someone pretending to be the Devil, or auld Nick himself, but it freaked me out...
dubious
elation by Tony R. Rodriguez
Throughout my life I’ve asked myself
if I would be content dying alone. You can call
my revelation many things. I never thought I could
learn anything from observing a flock of geese flying
south, God speaking to me through Nature.
Early by Len Kuntz
She took me into the back room where the mouse-eating snakes were. In frail light the glass aquariums glowed radiation green. All I saw at first was tawny straw and clumps of fake rock. / “Isn’t that one something?” she asked. / “Where?” / She tapped the glass and I held my breath but nothing moved. / Her name was Roberta but I called her Bobby. Bobby wore boots and jeans like mine, boy’s styles. She knew curse words I’d never heard. (added 01.10.10)
Everyone Has a Price by
Jeffrey Winke
Everyone has a price. Apparently, mine is a dollar. One sober-faced Washington on a germy rectangle of Federally-authorized, cotton-fiber paper. / Last night I was the doorman at Caroline’s Jazz Club, where I collected the five-buck cover charge from the odd assortment of customers. Among them, mismatched couples, lone men—wolves, an attractive woman with a limp, a couple of young guys with a top-heavy girl, and a pretentious dude, with his henchman and a writhing young woman, who announced that he’s with an Atlanta recording studio. “Impressive...,” I said. “That’ll be five bucks each,” as I stopped them from entering without paying.
Flight by Django Gold
It was not the New Zealander who took me up, a tan and talkative strider of a man who spoke passionately of the region’s farming system on the drive over the mountain, weighing forth on irrigation and cold-weather storage. Not he, nor the gregarious German lug who took my friend away, clutching him between his meaty thighs in much the same way as I would have pictured a mother bird carrying her hatchling to level ground. None of these, but a stone-silent man who fetched from the roof of the van the bulky roll of gliding apparatus and immediately set to fanning it out on the sunned matting that covered the slope before us. (added 05.17.10)
Freckles by Meg Pokrass
Loretta, Trina, and Junie were real friends, and their backs were brown as beef jerky. None of them freckled, as I did. Freckles on my face, my arms, my back. Freckles on my lips, flecks of oil, or butter, or tomato sauce on my t-shirts. Everywhere I was spotted, defective. Only the dog's eyes followed me, as if I were banana frosting or a dog's version of it.
High Tide by Alejandra Taylor
It started with a parched throat and a rubber snorkel. / The sun had been gone for a month or more, run out of town by February. She had always hated that her birthday was buried in winter, but this year was even worse than the others past – flurries starting at the end of September, temperatures dipping well below zero by Halloween, ten snow days before Thanksgiving.
Home by Shonna Gillis
...I knew peace wasn’t permanent. I just wanted it to last for a little while longer. Nothing lasts, and when that reality sets in harder than before, I head to the coast. To the water and sand, waves breaking hard and settling slow, a salty whisper at its lip.
/ I was fifteen years old the first time I truly experienced the absolute pacification of what I now call my Realm of Serenity.
/ The beach welcomed me into its arms that day. A day I searched for solace like never before. It was my savior. I wish my love for the beach was still that pure. Now I’m in one of Jay’s old t-shirts, a broken sandal kicking up sand, and I’m looking for the only thing that brings me peace... (added 06.13.10)
I Imagine Her Reaction by Suvi Mahonen
‘So have you two decided on a name for my granddaughter yet?’ / ‘Mum. You don’t know it’s a girl.’ / ‘Mmm. Maybe. But our family always seems to have girls born first. Aunty Emma was born first. You were born first. And your cousins Shani and Nina are older than their brothers.’ / ‘What about Brett?’ I say. / ‘He’s on your dad’s side.’ She raises her cup. ‘I’m so happy to finally be getting a grandchild,’ she says. ‘Let’s go have a look at the baby shop next if your legs aren’t too tired.’ / I take the lid off my cup to get to the last of the ice. I think of what the obstetrician said about my nineteen-week ultrasound. (added 08.10.10)
La Loquera by Emily Riggert
Chicharras, I think, was the last word you taught me. Cariño was the first. The other day Erica told me cochinada and I’ve asked her several times to repeat it, same way I did with chicharras and you. Chingao was the very first, back, back, back when still living in that little hovel off N. St. Mary’s St. with Teresa and her window-bashing inter-lopper, Neal. / I remember that cariñosa morning. In my bed one of those early days when I’d leave for class and come back, you still asleep and so handsome in my dark pink sheets, cold emanating from the tile floor of our heat-less house. Holding onto the pink fuzzy pillow as if it were me. I still sleep in that same bed, under the same sheets, in a new house now. A new city, alone. (added 11.26.10)
Long Shot Chance by Roger Real Drouin
The truck’s front all-terrain tires hit the concrete curb stop. He shut it down, stepped out and carried in the bloody bundle of blankets. Carried it gently. She met him at the door and took the bundle, a Rough-legged Hawk shot through the wing. With her foot she pushed open the door to the back area of the wildlife animal hospital, and she was gone. / Back out in the cold rain, he shut the truck door and realized how much blood had spilled on the seat and the carpet, a streak of deep crimson from when the truck sank into a sippie hole, and the frightened hawk tried to get free. (added 06.30.10)
Looking Forward by Joey Da'rrell Cloudy
Nathan and Mona both were looking forward to Aaron’s arrival. Besides the fact that they both enjoyed his company, his presence kept them from fighting. Things were becoming difficult between them since Mona had stopped having sex with Nathan around the time she started pursuing Trevor. Aaron was coming over to watch movies with them. It had evolved into a sort of a ritual for them by now, his arrival after work with a small stash of bud concealed in some hidden compartment in his ALICE pack. There was this organic quality to the way things had been going. (added 07.25.10)
The House by Suvi Mahonen
Just checked out the window. Robert’s still sitting there. Wish he’d get out of that suit and tie, he must be so hot. But there’s no use wasting my breath. Sunday’s always suit day. / He looks so lonely. I don’t know why they don’t house him with someone else with Down syndrome. At least he’d be able to talk to them. Feel like ringing up his parents. Giving them a what for. Something like: Get your arses down here right now. You know he expects you every Sunday. Surely you can spare a measly hour a week? Yeah right. I’m full of shit. Still, it would get some of the tension off. Me that is. Robert’s been tense all day. (added 02.27.10)
The Music Room by Heather Cadenhead
We're sitting in the music room—that is, Marj's bedroom with a piano shoved beside the bureau, a violin propped against the wall (I only told him it was a music room)—and he says, this is nice. Is it? I ask, looking around.
The Upstairs Neighbor by Matt Rittenhouse
I can hear, all night, the man above me walking about. Helen and I, we sleep beneath a thin ceiling, and all night above us are these hard-heeled steps. We hear him late at night in his kitchen, banging dishes in the sink, walking heavily; he never takes off his shoes. Guy upstairs I see him sometimes.
Peace by Chiranjibi Niroula
My darling / Sweet remembrance! / You left me many years ago. I have been searching you since then but all in vain you might have been in dark or in galaxy or some where else. I have been facing each second different. God, how many seconds have I faced without you? I’m so excited to share my hard movement, happiness and sadness to you. Some people say you are there in acme and I tried to triumph over there, but I was unproductive! Some one said, you had gone to abyss. I tried to excavate the earth but I was in enigma. Alas! Many say I am barmy now. May the Almighty defend me! / I had rummaged you around the hills, gorges, glaciers, hurricanes, Tsunamis, in winds and water, in the stars and every where... (added 10.11.10)
Porno for the Lord by Rob Roden
Dolores del Dunning and her triple D’s, the sign glowed. Dolores was thrilled to finally see her name in lights. Granted, a few of those lights were flickering and the sign hung over a so-so strip club that took up most of the nearly deserted alleyway; still, she was the headliner. The star.
Rapid
Eye Metaphors by Tony R. Rodriguez
And so I’m dreaming. My car speeds down
streets I can only name while I’m awake. I’m
in the town of Fremont and the air seems unnatural.
My head’s beating and my thoughts are convoluted
with emotion. I’m suffocating myself due to
a type of confusion one would experience in high
school. At my side sitting relaxed on the passenger
seat is she, the one bringing about this confusion.
Say by Ethel Rohan
Say a woman, Sarah, reads in the newspaper about Betsy Clarke, her former best friend from childhood. Say the article describes how Betsy has just won twenty-six million in the New York Lottery. What if Sarah hasn’t thought about Betsy in years? That they haven’t as much as exchanged a Christmas card in over two decades.
Scarie People by Max Earl Blair
Long ago and far away in a kingdom by the sea, there was a little island where the clouds were always fluffy and the sunshine was always pink and tasted just a little like lemonade. There was a lot of candy there. Enough for everyone. The people were all so happy that they laughed so much that no one ever went to sleep. It never rained, it never snowed, the worst thing there was a grumpy old toad.
Sketch by Roger Real Drouin
She had been looking at it for an hour. The twist of light reflecting from the sun, or a patch of marsh grass standing defiant, or a line in the gull’s foot, or a small untucked feather. Details she hadn’t seen before. She couldn’t take her eyes off it. / She surprised herself the day before, just as she whispered, “See you tomorrow Samuel” to herself. Or was it aloud, as she watched him walk away and he smiled back. It didn’t matter if she said it aloud because no one would have heard it anyway, just the one guy at the counter waiting to order his coffee.
The Sound of the Cars on the Bridge by Len Kuntz
Overhead, vehicles cross the great bridge at astonishing speeds, racecar fast. Their collective echo shrieks like audible horror trapped in a jar, the noise bouncing between girders. The concrete joists shudder as if the bridge itself is suffering a seizure, convulsing weak-kneed. / He’s late but not really. He’s been watching her for half an hour from the west end while his conscience battles a flight impulse, a survivor reflex. / He’s not a brave man and he knows it. (added 04.10.10)
They Run Hollywood by Jim Meirose
Wildman stood on the soapbox on the corner crying out words from the great handwritten book open in his arms before him; he had worked writing the book for weeks on end, he had planned this day carefully. Hair flying atop his tossing head, he stood screaming. /... / Among the restlessly gathering crowd two men stood talking. / He’s good, said Rumson, watching. He’s very, very good. / I know, answered Vanslyke, scratching at an ear. / The murmur of the crowd about them slowly increased as Wildman went on. (added 09.10.10)
Vampire Mote and Victim Punte by Chiranjibi Niroula
He was working as the khalansi, a helper of the driver. It was about six in a foggy morning of winter. The boy was in unbuttoned single cotton shirt and a half pant. His bare feet had several desiccated cracks. His dresses were old, torn and shrivel and almost all filthy, grimy and messy. His curly hair was long and unmanaged. It hung in a disheveled mass around his head and shoulder. He looked like never bathed. The effect of the cold was conspicuously seen on him. He was constantly quivering. He sometimes looked towards the sky. Perhaps, he was hoping to witness the rising sun but the sky was murky along with substantial mist. (added 12.31.10)
What He Was by Roland Goity
He’d been a schoolboy, as all boys had. A good student, then a great one. / He’d been a yard hand for neighbors. And a stock boy at the local supermarket. Weekend and summer jobs, when he was young. / And he plunged head first into bright clean pools and the mucky muck. It didn’t matter the clarity of the water’s surface, just as long as he could dive.
When I Followed the Elephant by Tony R. Rodriguez
You’re going to hate me./ You’re going to shake your head and fling insults toward me every chance you get. You’ll discover my character flaws, my deluded, involuntary ill reactions toward things. / Most of the disgust you’ll project will be because I’m a registered Republican, a staunch conservative when it comes to fiscal responsibilities and domestic and foreign policies. I’d like to suggest that I’m a liberal when it comes to social aspects, but I’m not convinced you’d believe me. It may be better for you to decide for yourself. / Here's my story...
Voodoo Curse by Mel Waldman
“Doc, I think my mother-in-law put a curse on me. A voodoo curse.” / I gazed quizzically at my patient, a good looking middle-aged African-American man and a professor of physics at Columbia University. / “You’re a scientist and yet, you believe in the power of voodoo?” / “Until a week ago, I thought voodoo was a lot of nonsense, mind over matter stuff. But now, I know it’s real.” / “What happened?”...
You Raped Mother and I Am Your Creation by Mel Waldman
You raped Mother and I am your creation, a dumb embryo growling, growing and howling in a mute landscape, wandering in a microscopic Waste Land, an invisible being or pre-being traveling through predestined metamorphosis on a dark journey to the other side of life.
Yum-hum by Kirsten Anderson
YUM sings your hum. / We, the Young Ultraviolet Magi (formerly the Wilson High School Marching Band Dropouts), have taken your city with power chords and grapes. Your protests are but the buzzing of flies trapped in candle wax. / Watch and learn as our lead singer, Big Boogie Mama, tapes the YUM Manifesto on the doors of Foul-Mart
Zen
Cola by Rob Rosen
I'd like to buy the world a home and furnish
it with love. Grow apple trees and honeybees, and
snow white turtledoves. I'd like to teach the world
to sing in perfect harmony, I'd like to buy the
world a Coke and keep it company...
Zuma by Kyle Hemmings
She hates the thought of ever having skin like crepe paper or memories like an unmanageable frizz. Instead, she wants a set of forever legs like the first lady, evolve into the actress wearing delicate lace or felted cashmere. She'll play the roles of dysfunctional heroines, their life-tragedies, the way everything falls back to earth.
