Elaine was lucky for two reasons. She had flood insurance and she had somewhere to go.
Her new life, far away from the dire-faced officials on the Public Access channel was finally coming into focus after the two-hour layover in Chicago.
Stories and Poems
Here are some stories and poems from Every Writer. Much of our stories and poems will be moving here in the future.
Poem: Among the Most Primitive of Mammals
B.J. Wilson is from Louisville, Kentucky. He holds an MFA from the Bluegrass Writers Studio at Eastern Kentucky University, a writing fellowship from The Hambidge Center for Creative Arts and Sciences, and a Pushcart Prize Nomination for poetry. His poems appear in Exit 7, Gravel, New Madrid, Tar River Poetry, Valley Voices and elsewhere. His first chapbook of poems, Tuckasee,
Afterlife
I never thought much about the afterlife. Until now. I can’t move, breathe, speak or hear and it is so dark all the time. If I knew it would be this lonely, I would have been cremated instead. Chuckling softly at the irony of it all, I pick at the maggots wriggling on my forehead….
Poem: Dreams of Aberdeen
Anita Markoff is in her final months of an MA in English Literature -Film and Visual Culture at the University of Aberdeen. She has been published in ‘Spilt Milk’ magazine, with work forthcoming in ‘Meanwhile’ and ‘Reanalogue’. Femme but not fatale, she spends her time tending to her plants and daydreaming about women’s fiction.
Magician
A thief came out of the shadows, dressed in all black and wearing a balaclava and held a pistol at Darren Tanian. “Money!” He shouted. “Ain’t a thang.” Darren sang. He took a drag from his black quellazaire and exhaled a thin, grayish vapor. “Money!” The thief repeated. “Where?” Darren asked. The thief cocked the…
Tomato Pulp Makes the Wound Look Worse
I never owned a bow and arrow as a kid but learned archery from my friend, Stanley Llewellyn. Using mud, we painted a target on an old tree in Llewellyn’s backyard
Story: After He Cheated
At first she felt free, after her husband cheated. Oddly, Vivian found herself walking through a local park in the July heat without a bra on. She simply didn’t give a damn about attire now with her stringy hair and puffy eyes
Poem: Without Words
David Dephy – born June 21st, 1968. The trilingual Georgian/American poet, novelist, essayist, performer, multimedia artist and painter. An active participant in the American and international poetry and artistic scenes, such as PEN World Voice
Poem: Jazz Me
Jazz Me by Theodore Eisenberg In a crowded hall bluesy and sexy, where trumpets roust the congregation, bluesy and sexy, where women’s working hips roust the congregation, scorch men silly, where women’s working hips blare and glare, scorch men silly, while tables tap oak feet, blare and glare, where chairs slide to seat, while tables…
Poem: Beach in Lebanon— A Man, A Woman—
B.T. Joy is a British poet and short fiction writer living in Glasgow. His poetry and short fiction has appeared in magazines, journals, anthologies and podcasts worldwide including poetry in Yuan Yang, The Meadow, Toasted Cheese, Numinous: Spiritual Poetry, Presence, Paper Wasp, Bottle Rockets, Mu, Frogpond and The Newtowner, among many others. His 2015 collection Teaching Neruda…