My father, Oliver, is busy unloading all our belongings from our myriad luggage. He?s as robotic as the Automatons he crafted to help us with the move. At least they make beeping noises when they need re-charging. Then again, he had always been a silent man. But you?d think him a zombie since the passing of his wife, my mother Eleanor
Archives for 2012
Beside the Sea by Scott Seagram
At the end of the shift, he pushed a crumpled nondescript envelope containing three twenty dollar bills into my palm, but I left feeling empty-handed; he told me I didn?t get the job.
When Something Goes, Something Remains by Josepha Gutelius
I pause on the fifth step, pursued by no one. And nothing to see, except a painting on the wall of a man wearing my floral nightgown, Colt 45 in hand, a glossy finish. A lousy painting, nothing but an exact reproduction of the last photograph I took of him. Is there nothing left for the imagination anymore? You project a photo slide onto a canvas, then you just fill it in with paint. But it?s so lifelike I have an instant?s reflex to whisk myself out of harm?s way, my head down low, to duck the bullets. But no bullets come, they?ve disappeared, chronologically speaking.
Off The Page by Ren?e Hankins
Off The Page ?by Ren?e Hankins ?We haven?t been in one novel in the last five months. Not one.? Binky, the dapper protagonist, is a wanna be stat man. He?s a walking rememberer of current trends. ?How many drafts are you makin? through? I?ve been makin? it to two,? I testify. ?I?ve made three works […]
Gone by Ronald Robert Moore
? Gone ?by Ronald Robert Moore Joe and Sparky ambled between the linear rows of orange trees. Joe proudly gripped the Sharpshooter bee-bee gun his father had given him for his tenth birthday. He squinted and peered down the long straight furrows between the rows. In a salute his right hand protected his eyes […]
Revenge by Leanne Adler
Revenge by Leanne Adler Good lord, please start, Gloria thought as her eyes roamed the busy room and she registered the faces of the colleagues she knew, the ones she didn’t and the ones she’d rather not. Three of the latter category were perched on chairs at her table, sipping the coffee that tasted like […]
Life As A Tattoo by J White
I walk out of the paper factory all sweaty and pissed off. My tattoo-covered arms are dripping with dirty sweat. My long hair and beard are full of dust and bits of raw paper as tiny as gnats. It is always the same at the paper factory in the summer time. By day?s end I am sweaty and pissed.
Cowgirl Love By Gary V. Powell
She was pretty as the Sierra Madres in winter, leaving her girlfriends behind to sip their beers. The boy she danced with couldn?t rope calves much less break broncos, while she could have ridden bulls into the ground. I sipped Bourbon and watched her rhinestones shimmer, her hips sharp enough to rip denim.
Marilyn Monroe Moment by Courtney Smart
Marilyn Monroe Moment by Courtney Smart There is not a teenage girl more sheltered, na?ve, and always out of my place than me; honestly, I am from a bleak, dirt town with a population of 3,000: people never leave, mothers confine their children in doors for fear a coyote will devour one of their eight, […]
The Tile by Veronique Kootstra
?Waiting for change always seems to take longer than you would expect.?
Amy must have read this sentence thousands of times. If it was a saying by a famous writer or philosopher she might see the point, but they?re her mum?s own words. The yellow tile stands out against pale blue wall; the writing is done in black, calligraphic letters.
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