Out on the Drag
by Giuseppe Taurino
99 words
That afternoon, after I got laid off, I went down to Dirty Martin’s for beers and a burger. As I waited for my food, an old man wheeling an oxygen tank waddled toward the counter. He bumped his way past tables, sat a few stools down from mine, and ordered a Budweiser. We made eye contact and I nodded politely. The aluminum tank stood beside him like an obedient dog, and I wondered what it felt like to wheel your life around, handle and all, to walk about knowing that your next breath was literally in your own hands.
Giuseppe Taurino lives in Austin , TX where he works as an Education Programs Coordinator for Badgerdog Literary Publishing. His work has appeared in Gulf Coast.
10.20.2008
10.14.2008
Death by Shovel
by Doug Mathewson
87 words
At lowest tide I visit our town beach. A purposefully unfashionable time after all the poets searching for god have finished walking their dogs. Scrup-fwop, scrup-fwop, can be heard beyond the jetty.
I see two lifeguards young and tall, their sun-blond hair in matched French braids. With long handled steel shovels from Parks and Rec they scoop up jellyfish and casually lob them up to a hot dry death upon the rocks.
The oversized orange windbreakers our teen guardians wore urgently proclaiming “RESCUE.” Mercifully, jellyfish can’t read.
Doug Mathewson lives on Connecticut’s eastern shore and writes very short stories that occasionally become poetry or essays of their own volition. He is interested in how an individual’s perception can change shared reality. Fiction creates new realities, and strangely how reality changes itself. His catalogue can be found here, or is shippable via rail. His current project, True Stories From Imaginary Lives, can be found at www.little2say.org
87 words
At lowest tide I visit our town beach. A purposefully unfashionable time after all the poets searching for god have finished walking their dogs. Scrup-fwop, scrup-fwop, can be heard beyond the jetty.
I see two lifeguards young and tall, their sun-blond hair in matched French braids. With long handled steel shovels from Parks and Rec they scoop up jellyfish and casually lob them up to a hot dry death upon the rocks.
The oversized orange windbreakers our teen guardians wore urgently proclaiming “RESCUE.” Mercifully, jellyfish can’t read.
Doug Mathewson lives on Connecticut’s eastern shore and writes very short stories that occasionally become poetry or essays of their own volition. He is interested in how an individual’s perception can change shared reality. Fiction creates new realities, and strangely how reality changes itself. His catalogue can be found here, or is shippable via rail. His current project, True Stories From Imaginary Lives, can be found at www.little2say.org
Tears
by Stephen J. Davis
95 words
I remained stoic while Esmeralda ended our relationship. “Well, adiós,” I said, lonely—then all alone.
It wasn’t but five minutes before I started crying. I wiped those first tears with my fingers. When the sobs came, I upgraded to tissue but the rate of saturation was overwhelming. I resorted to holding a bowl under my chin. It proved effective at collecting my salty sadness.
I finally regained my composure after filling up four bowls and placing them in the scorching sun to evaporate.
I used the salt they made to rim a Margarita glass.
Stephen J. Davis teaches Kindergarten near San Francisco , California . He lives with his wife, daughter and two cats.
95 words
I remained stoic while Esmeralda ended our relationship. “Well, adiós,” I said, lonely—then all alone.
It wasn’t but five minutes before I started crying. I wiped those first tears with my fingers. When the sobs came, I upgraded to tissue but the rate of saturation was overwhelming. I resorted to holding a bowl under my chin. It proved effective at collecting my salty sadness.
I finally regained my composure after filling up four bowls and placing them in the scorching sun to evaporate.
I used the salt they made to rim a Margarita glass.
Stephen J. Davis teaches Kindergarten near San Francisco , California . He lives with his wife, daughter and two cats.
Arranged Complacency
by Hector Duarte
100 words
It had all been arranged; into a neat, little package.
He looked up at her and smiled and averted his eyes. It was difficult to maintain eye contact because it brought in him a sense of longing, quickly followed by a sense of shame. In knowing that in one year she’d be lying next to him, under the same sheets, her surname different.
“It’s what I chose for myself,” she’d once said. He was embarrassed by the fact he’d let himself be deluded by the prospect that perhaps he had a place in her plans: her plan B, of course.
Hector Duarte Jr. is an aspiring writer and seventh-grade Language Arts teacher. He resides in Miami, Florida.
100 words
It had all been arranged; into a neat, little package.
He looked up at her and smiled and averted his eyes. It was difficult to maintain eye contact because it brought in him a sense of longing, quickly followed by a sense of shame. In knowing that in one year she’d be lying next to him, under the same sheets, her surname different.
“It’s what I chose for myself,” she’d once said. He was embarrassed by the fact he’d let himself be deluded by the prospect that perhaps he had a place in her plans: her plan B, of course.
Hector Duarte Jr. is an aspiring writer and seventh-grade Language Arts teacher. He resides in Miami, Florida.
9.30.2008
I Was Raised
by Neil Crabtree
100 words
I was raised by machines that entertained me in exchange for my obedience. Put in front of a television, I surrendered free will for a chance to stare into the electric glow.
My parents disappeared into the shadows to either side. Their talking sometimes disturbed me as I watched my favorite shows. Eventually, they moved closer and closer to the glow. Then they became quiet too.
We stared nightly, bathed in radiation, awaiting instructions. We did what we were told, bought goods we saw displayed.
Family fighting stopped between us, since no one dared talk when the box was on.
Neil Crabtree's work has appeared in Verbsap and others. Links to his work can be found at his blog site, www.believablelies.blogspot.com
100 words
I was raised by machines that entertained me in exchange for my obedience. Put in front of a television, I surrendered free will for a chance to stare into the electric glow.
My parents disappeared into the shadows to either side. Their talking sometimes disturbed me as I watched my favorite shows. Eventually, they moved closer and closer to the glow. Then they became quiet too.
We stared nightly, bathed in radiation, awaiting instructions. We did what we were told, bought goods we saw displayed.
Family fighting stopped between us, since no one dared talk when the box was on.
Neil Crabtree's work has appeared in Verbsap and others. Links to his work can be found at his blog site, www.believablelies.blogspot.com
A Useless Bit of Advice
by Howie Good
98 words
Better stay on your meds. Or get some. Otherwise how will you ignore the pile of hacked-off limbs on the hospital lawn, the amputees limping or crawling away, as disability permits, their sacrifice worse than forgotten – misremembered? You’ll end up scribbling on napkins and the last remaining walls, and the scribbles, presuming they’re discovered, will sound when pieced together like a suicide note left to mislead investigators. Christ, you’ll end up like me, driving slowly over a bridge of bones, your face gray with exhaustion, while along the slatternly, post-industrial river, morning birds sing in the cadaverous trees.
Howie Good’s latest chapbooks are Last Words, available online from Gold Wake Press at http://goldwakepress.files.wordpress.com/2008/07/lastwords.pdf, and Police & Questions, available online from Right Hand Pointing at http://www.righthandpointing.com/howiegood/
98 words
Better stay on your meds. Or get some. Otherwise how will you ignore the pile of hacked-off limbs on the hospital lawn, the amputees limping or crawling away, as disability permits, their sacrifice worse than forgotten – misremembered? You’ll end up scribbling on napkins and the last remaining walls, and the scribbles, presuming they’re discovered, will sound when pieced together like a suicide note left to mislead investigators. Christ, you’ll end up like me, driving slowly over a bridge of bones, your face gray with exhaustion, while along the slatternly, post-industrial river, morning birds sing in the cadaverous trees.
Howie Good’s latest chapbooks are Last Words, available online from Gold Wake Press at http://goldwakepress.files.wordpress.com/2008/07/lastwords.pdf, and Police & Questions, available online from Right Hand Pointing at http://www.righthandpointing.com/howiegood/
Pop Tarts and Beastie Boys
by Sabrina Stoessinger
99 words
On the hottest days Debbie would lock us into her room. I'd always protest, predicting the outcome, but in the end I'd be the first to light up. We'd partake in grandiose schemes and while away hours, days.
The thermometer hit three digits that afternoon and I decided a ski trip was in order. Debbie set about creating a blizzard by tearing open her feather bedding. We danced among the flakes and successfully piled up snow banks, though our snowballs left much to be desired.
The Alps were paradise until the door frame split and ski patrol burst in.
99 words
On the hottest days Debbie would lock us into her room. I'd always protest, predicting the outcome, but in the end I'd be the first to light up. We'd partake in grandiose schemes and while away hours, days.
The thermometer hit three digits that afternoon and I decided a ski trip was in order. Debbie set about creating a blizzard by tearing open her feather bedding. We danced among the flakes and successfully piled up snow banks, though our snowballs left much to be desired.
The Alps were paradise until the door frame split and ski patrol burst in.
Sabrina considers procrastination an art and perfects her technique as often as possible.
9.09.2008
Flawed
by Grant Hettrick
91 words
I emptied my bank account to buy my fiancé, Mary, the most beautiful engagement ring, quite sure I didn't deserve her.
"Look," the jeweler said. He handed me his conical glass and a small brilliant diamond. "See the flaw toward the bottom?"
I convinced myself I saw the merest cloud, but more than anything, I deferred to his expertise.
"If it wasn't for that flaw, this would be perfect," the jeweler continued. "And when I'm done with the setting, it will be impossible to notice unless you already know it's there."
Grant Hettrick enjoys writing fiction and enjoys reading fiction with his two children, Nate and Maddy. His work has appeared in Peeks and Valleys, Heavy Glow and Toasted Cheese.
91 words
I emptied my bank account to buy my fiancé, Mary, the most beautiful engagement ring, quite sure I didn't deserve her.
"Look," the jeweler said. He handed me his conical glass and a small brilliant diamond. "See the flaw toward the bottom?"
I convinced myself I saw the merest cloud, but more than anything, I deferred to his expertise.
"If it wasn't for that flaw, this would be perfect," the jeweler continued. "And when I'm done with the setting, it will be impossible to notice unless you already know it's there."
Grant Hettrick enjoys writing fiction and enjoys reading fiction with his two children, Nate and Maddy. His work has appeared in Peeks and Valleys, Heavy Glow and Toasted Cheese.
Dumbing Down
by Kevin White
97 words
Maria watched her daughter chew on the triangle shaped aiglet as she gazed intently at the aquarium fish. At least she wasn't sucking her thumb, Maria thought. Still, the yellow-orange, wulfenite sometimes broke off and Maria wasn't positive her daughter hadn't swallowed some.
Years later, after countless doctors and even resorting to a West Indies shaman who practiced Obeah, Maria despaired that her daughter's mental deficiencies stemmed from this. A few misaligned teeth would not have kept her from being a doctor, engineer or even an Ichthyologist, but small amounts of lead ingested over time certainly would.
Kevin lives in Portland, Oregon with his wife and three German Shepherds. His work has been seen in PenPricks, and next month will be in 55 Words. A link to more of his work can be found here: Horrificmusings.com
97 words
Maria watched her daughter chew on the triangle shaped aiglet as she gazed intently at the aquarium fish. At least she wasn't sucking her thumb, Maria thought. Still, the yellow-orange, wulfenite sometimes broke off and Maria wasn't positive her daughter hadn't swallowed some.
Years later, after countless doctors and even resorting to a West Indies shaman who practiced Obeah, Maria despaired that her daughter's mental deficiencies stemmed from this. A few misaligned teeth would not have kept her from being a doctor, engineer or even an Ichthyologist, but small amounts of lead ingested over time certainly would.
Kevin lives in Portland, Oregon with his wife and three German Shepherds. His work has been seen in PenPricks, and next month will be in 55 Words. A link to more of his work can be found here: Horrificmusings.com
Frugal
by Stephen Davis
95 words
Topher prides himself on being frugal. It’s a competition of sorts, established by his fraternity. The guidelines are simple: Have sex on a first date while spending as little money as possible. Topher holds the frat record at $8.35 (tax included). He spent the money on chardonnay and romanced his way to nudeness—under the stars and atop the beach.
He’d surpass that record within a month. For Selena he bought more potent vodka ($7.83 on sale) and followed the same cheap sex formula. But in his added drunkenness he failed to use a condom.
Stephen J. Davis teaches Kindergarten near San Francisco , California . He lives with his wife, daughter and two cats.
95 words
Topher prides himself on being frugal. It’s a competition of sorts, established by his fraternity. The guidelines are simple: Have sex on a first date while spending as little money as possible. Topher holds the frat record at $8.35 (tax included). He spent the money on chardonnay and romanced his way to nudeness—under the stars and atop the beach.
He’d surpass that record within a month. For Selena he bought more potent vodka ($7.83 on sale) and followed the same cheap sex formula. But in his added drunkenness he failed to use a condom.
Stephen J. Davis teaches Kindergarten near San Francisco , California . He lives with his wife, daughter and two cats.
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