.: February 2008

2.26.2008

Y'all Muddafucka by Jim Parks

100 words

Nine inches of rain one day, eleven the next. Gutters, ditches, creeks, bayous, rivers running riot nearly out of their banks with chocolate water.

Ti-beau and his little sister Evangeline are about to go out of their minds with cabin fever. The floor of the bayou house on stilts rings with their running footsteps.

Outdoors, for the fortieth time of the day, they stomp in the ditch, Ti-beau in little white shrimpers' rubber boots. The Cajun mother, virago, her hair in curlers, leans out the door and bellows, "Y'all muddafucka bet' get y'all muddafuckin' ass out dat muddafuckin waw-tuh!"

Jim Parks is a native of the Oak Cliff section of Dallas, son of a merchant and a bank teller from the black lands where they grow the cotton. Raised in Houston, he did his time in the Navy, college in California, newspapers there, Texas and Florida. Truck driver, deckhand on tugs, tuna clippers, oyster barges and shrimpers; a railroad bum and laborer, he can't remember ever not trying to work hard to tell his stories of sudden death, love, lust and life in print. Tagged as The Legendary Jim Parks by a less than complimentary police captain in Houston, he uses that moniker still to find out who among us has a sense of humor and who does not.

Nighttime Flirting by Louise Yeiser

100 words

After a day of travel; finally, bedtime. I tucked myself into the softness, turned off the light and saw stars playing tag and dancing, twirling, through the darkness like lightening bugs in the twilight tree-shadows of a mid-summer's night. Once my eyes adjusted, the twinkling faded and the dresser melted back and forth between silhouette and solid, in and out, teasing me from the edge. I turned on the light, got out of bed, and walked into the living room, to listen to the waves and convince myself that I was not completely crazy—something I have suspected for years.

Louise Yeiser is a freelance writer whose work has appeared in Modern Witches, Wizards and Magic (Kerlak) and Tuesday Shorts and regularly in Six Sentences. She lives in Sewickley, PA and vacations in Naples, FL.

Looking by Austin Alexis

99 words

She had gone to Central Park to watch the ice skaters. It had been the kind of peaceful morning she couldn't find in her hometown L. A. even with a telescope. But now, as she was leaving the Park, she sensed someone was eyeing and following her. A man with a limp like a hiccup that won't stop. A hiccup attack that gets louder the way this man was getting closer, closer.

As she ran toward an exit, she peered back, saw he had stopped, had clutched his chest in obvious pain.

Now: her turn to rush toward him.

Austin Alexis has published in The Cherry Blossom Review, The Rogue Gallery, The Brownstone Poets Anthology, Red River Review and elsewhere. His chapbook, Lovers and Drag Queens, was published by Poets Wear Prada, and he has read at The Bowery Poetry Club, Cornelia Street Cafe, Back Fence and other venues.

2.01.2008

"Don't be so daft. It's fine for Christ to be the star of the show." by Phil Abrams

100 words

- "Don't be so daft..." overheard on NPR - a story about Muslim tolerance of X-mas in Britain.

"Curtain up in five," echoed Burt's gravelly voice, the stage manager who'd seen it all. Yeshua was nervous; rightly so, His name topped the Kingman Theatre marquee in Dubuque. Expected was nothing less than divine perfection, but He faced a stranger in the dressing room mirror; someone whose life had become antithetical to His father's plan for Him - a metropolitan martyr. Forsaken now. A seven-year contract with the Rosenbaum Agency signed in red ink was His one and only chance to be idolized while touring the provinces.

"Places everybody! Places!"

Yeshua just prayed they had rigged the cross properly.

In alphabetical order, Phil Abrams is an actor, father, husband, shadow teacher, and sometime writer. Favorite Popsicle is Trader Joe's lime Fruit Floe.

The Big Freeze by Rosemary Baker

99 words

George and Sylvia got together at my birthday party, the night of the ice storm. It shoulda been me with George – our school's shaggy black haired, blue eyed cornerback – but I was busy playing good hostess.

I thought Sylvia was my friend, but she shrugged and used the line about fairness and love and war. I've decided there's no difference between the two.

Sylvia stayed late after school one day with the math teacher, Mr. Schultz, who's a hunk, and I told Tina my suspicions. She's the queen of rumors.

And now I'm waiting for the ice to thaw.

Rosemary Baker lives in northwest Arkansas and plays with words sometimes. She's a huge Razorback fan.

I Really Like Your Hair by Digby Beaumont

100 words

"When striking up new friendships," Laurence had read on the internet, "make people feel good about themselves."

He called out, "Best dry cleaner's around."

"Excuse me?"

"Prompt service. Great prices. You do alterations, too."

The man avoided eye contact as he laid the suit on the counter. So Laurence tried again. "You know, I really like your hair."

"What?"

"Where do you get it cut, may I ask?"

"Nowhere." The man scowled. "My wife cuts it."

Outside, Laurence replayed the conversation over in his mind; where had he gone wrong? He'd definitely have to look on that website again tonight.

Digby Beaumont is a writer based in Brighton , England . His short stories and flash fictions have been published in literary magazines and journals as well as in the anthologies Small Voices, Big Confessions and Late-Night River Lights. He won a Spoiled Ink Writer's Choice Award in 2006.

She's Home by Troy Wallace

100 words

He held onto her legs as she tried to slip out of the skylight and onto the roof. The rest of her body lay stomach-flat on shingles.

"Let go," she said, the cigarette still in her fingers. He could see the smoke rising, as if from the chimney. A dying fire.

He tightened his hand around her small ankle and felt the bone pressing hard between his thumb and finger. "You'll fall."

"Richard?" from somewhere inside.

"So what?" She whispered that. "It would be easier."

He let go and she released the cigarette, pressed herself to the roof.

Troy Wallace lives in the Midwest and writes when he finds the time.

The Art of Aging Gracefully by Sabrina Stoessinger

98 words

The Art of Aging Gracefully
by Sabrina Stoessinger
98 Words

I've got big plans for my face. As I age I wish to look as surprised as possible; though to achieve this the doctor's may need to carve up my facial muscles like a holiday turkey.

Having my eyebrows relocated to my hairline is what I'm aiming for. As for my eyes, I'd like all the wrinkles pulled out. Conceivably, the corner of my lids should reach my temples. My lips need to be injected with mammal fat until I'm mistaken for an allergy victim in desperate need of epinephrine.

Yes, by sixty I should be quite becoming.

A Benevolent Decision by Michael A. Kechula

100 words

"Where am I?" Liz asked.

"Central Hospital," said Dr. Brown.

"What happened?"

"You fell off a high cliff. You've been in a coma for three years."

"Why does my head feel so odd?"

"You'll get used to it."

"Gimme a mirror."

"Not now."

"Why?"

"You need therapy first."

"Oh God! Did something happen to my face?"

"The face is fine."

"Why did you say 'the face?' Gimme a mirror now, or I'll sue!"

"Calm yourself. Things have changed."

"What things?"

"The Supreme Court made a wise and benevolent decision. It saved your life."

"What decision?"

"The one allowing head transplants."

Michael A. Kechula is a retired technical writer. His flash and micro-fiction tales have won first prize in six contests and honorable mention in three others. His stories have appeared in ninety-two online and print magazines and anthologies in Australia, Canada, England, and US. He's authored two books of flash and micro-fiction: "A Full D eck of Zombies--61 Speculative Fiction Tales" and "Crazy Stories for Crazy People." Both paperbacks available at www.amazon.com eBook versions of the former are available at www.BooksForABuck.com and www.fictionwise.com

The Seated Shrinking by Louise Yeiser

100 words

Where did he go? Did a piece of him disappear into the crease made by the seat-back meeting the seat bottom? Did he fold like an accordion? I tried not to stare and looked away, but for the rest of the night, whenever we sat down -- at the restaurant or in the coffee house, with our table pulled up close to the guitarist on his wooden stool, who lowered his eyes whenever he sang into the microphone -- I studied him, trying to understand his body frame, and to resist the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him up straight.

Louise Yeiser is a freelancer living in Sewickley, PA with three English Mastiffs and a cat.

2.26.2008

2.01.2008

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