The wind off Nauset Bay is strong and insistent, demanding my presence. It draws me from the long comfort of my home, and yet, it does not have to pull too hard. This is the debtor’s wind and I know why it is here.
Continue reading “The Returning by Rob O’Keefe”
Charles D called me neurodivergent, which he thought was a good insult but I told him it just meant I wasn’t average, which I’m not. He was flummoxed. A good word, flummoxed. It’s in my Favorite Words book.
Then I remembered to smile knowingly at Charles D, which is something Aunt told me to do with bullies or attempted bullies. Aunt, as she always tells me, knows her shit. Charles D eventually wandered away.
Aunt took me in when Dad died (Mom’s location unknown). Cause of death was organ failure but isn’t it always? A liver fails when you drink too much. A brain fails when a bullet is shot into it. Lungs fail when you drown.
Made a note. Find out a more specific cause of death for Dad.
Continue reading “Nicholas by James W. Morris”
A demon places a sharp sabre in his hand, An angel gently whispers words of reassurance. The pain he feels is equal to having a dagger pierce his heart, the angel wants to take it out while the demon wishes to push it in further. Since he lost her nothing has been the same, he oscillates from melancholy to a furious rage that swallows him whole. This leaves his soul barren like a desert, an almost perfect ground for the deities to do battle. “Slay him and be done with it,” the demon says in a haughty tone.
Continue reading “A Quarrel Of Divinity and Impiety by Mirza Copi”
Feral Advice
Come spring, Feral Tomcats, nature’s charming blighters, seek the bliss of temporary domesticity. Such is happening in my courtyard; or at least the attempt is being made. Both my Feral Tomcat friends, Andy and Alfie are doing well. But Alfie has been smacked with lovesickness.
Continue reading “WEEK 433: Feral Advice; It’s A Big World Afterall; A to Z of the Kitchen”
Before the second home in Montebello, I was placed in my first foster home, where my hunger for thinness was conceived and grew larger in size than I had ever been.
Continue reading “Foster by Athena Vasquez”
I watch the middle-aged man in the tailored suit with disdain as he states commands to the soulless, unblinking Ernest.
Continue reading “Write me a story in the style of Hemingway by Stephen James”
It’s a scorcher of a summer night in Gaza City and Fadi lies naked in bed, sweating buckets in the dark. His mother shouts something from the kitchen, her voice bouncing off the walls, mixing with the clanging of pots and pans. From the bedroom, his father’s reply is a muffled murmur, drowned out by the blaring TV. A stray dog barks outside, and soon a few others join in from a distance, their barks blending together like a chorus of sirens.
Continue reading “Chasing Sleep on a Hot Summer Night in Gaza by L.F. Khouri”
The lady in the pink dress wants to save me. Her soft eyes wet, she reaches for me, hungry to share her joy. She steps closer, hand on my shoulder now, and pulls me to her. But I don’t like people touching me without asking. Jesus is knocking at the door of my heart. Let Him in. Everyone at the Holy Redeemer Revival wants me to say yes. I step back. What if He doesn’t like what He sees inside?
Continue reading “What I’ll Lose by Phebe Jewell”
“You have any family, Hook, if that’s what they call you.” The heavy set man asking questions had been around for at least half a century, carried serious eyes, some obvious facial scars marking the years, but those remnants didn’t appear to be from life-threatening situations. Warmth, in no certain terms or applications, issued from his person as well as from his voice, a long-time cowboy tone carrying his words with a semi-hoarse baritone as though it came from deep in his chest and not through regular vocal channels. A cough would not have been so deeply issued.
Continue reading “The Confrontation by Tom Sheehan”
Sophie’s yoga teacher had raved about the cacao workshop. It was to be held at the yoga studio on a Saturday afternoon. Sophie had started taking yoga because she thought it would be good for her anxiety levels. She wasn’t sure a cacao festival would help with that. Didn’t cacao wake you up? Sophie didn’t want to wake up. She wanted to go to sleep – for weeks, maybe even a month or two. She had terrible insomnia. But Juniper (was that her real name?) the yoga teacher, insisted that the workshop would open up Sophie’s heart and help her to overcome all her worries. In one afternoon? That would be great and a lot cheaper than four or five years of therapy.
Continue reading “I’d Rather Have a Chocolate Bar by Frances Gaudiano”
literally stories 