1al Qaeda in the desert magrebtrump in the desert casinohail red hail black hail brightalt right alt country control alt delete2I used to write likethis in bed, in thedark, by sense,umami, inhalingthe darknostrilI used to have somethingto say, now I amquiet, in fear ofthe fashion police,the reprimanders,They know I'm wrong,not my-self,bag-eyed,trumpet-minded,stuck in my throat,brisk on … Continue reading Untitled Late 2016
Category: Fiction
Short stories, instant fiction
Air Methods
He had asked her to help him get a few rocks for the fire. He had concocted what sounded to her like an elaborate idea for what she knew he was envisioning in his head would become not just his best fire yet, but the ultimate fire—a perfect fire, the perfect fire. He had brought with them a bag of sticks he had picked up throughout the neighborhood in the weeks leading up to this little trip. He was adamant about kindling and newspaper and turned up his nose at lighter fluid. She appreciated the purist in him, theoretically, but every once in a while he was craft a fire design that choked on itself, smoking a lot, but never really becoming a fire. Lighter fluid, for him, was just too easy.
They scavenged rocks from remnant fire rings at various vacant tent sites not far from the cabin. He expected her to know exactly which rocks he wanted her to pick up. But she didn't know, how could she inherently know something like that, what were his criteria? Who knew? She stood there, perhaps with her hands in her pockets, looking off at the river, as he tried to get at least two rocks in each hand.
Full story here...Anti-reality Sketch
by R.L. Wisdom
I am on a bus with my wife. I am talking to a tourist’s camera; saying, ‘The second time I died was because of a trolley.’
A trolley races past, off its tracks. The front of it misses the bus but by over-compensating our driver clips the rear of the trolley, sending the bus rolling, rolling.
The rolling stops. Everyone is startled for a long moment but people soon begin to move about and collect their bearings. I can begin to hear sirens in the background. Upon reaching the scene, emergency workers start to help passengers loose themselves from the wreckage.
The workers keep walking past me as I lay there, still stunned. This worries me. I have died once before and the way I feel now is eerily familiar….
Living people cannot see dead people. And, being dead, I cannot see dead bodies. My wife asks me what’s going on, so I explain. We walk away from the wreckage and begin traveling down a side street.
I must warn you that, at this point, I am not sure if my wife is dead or not. I do not know myself whether I have been killed in the crash. All logic is suspended.
My wife asks me to walk back down the block to get some napkins from the take-out counter of a restaurant we’ve just passed. There is a cut on her nose.
I turn around and head back. I come to a storefront with a big glass display window. It is there that I become disoriented and almost lose myself in the mirror-like glass. It takes all of my mental faculties what seems like a dozen minutes to extract myself from its reflective pool/pull...
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dancing with shadows
by chinball wizard aka Phil Williams The irony was that Rock Johnson, all-city linebacker and considered in some circles as the hardest hitter this side of the generational divide between Lawrence Taylor and ray lewis, a real ‘grave-digger,’ didn’t like drugs. He knew about steroids, had been (maybe) offered steroids in various kafkian workouts where … Continue reading dancing with shadows
At Five
At five twenty-five he saw him pull into the drive. Lucky for Miggs he had already showered, shaved, and swept the floors. He put on some garden clogs and opened the door. Sullivan was standing there with a bottle of J & B, his arms outstretched holding it like a fish. “Diageo owns my … Continue reading At Five
The Sound That Water Makes
by R.L. Wisdom Dear(er) Melissa, It has been a while…I suppose some contact is necessary. (Ray opens the freezer door.) I haven't seen Tom in more than a few weeks. (From the freezer, Ray removes a bag.) I would assume the two of you are traveling on the weekends, no? (After closing the freezer door, … Continue reading The Sound That Water Makes
Art at 8:30
The baseball game
Hello? Yeah, so, ah, Rafe came over and we watched some baseball. Eleven to eighteen? No, that was the score, but…you have to say the, ah, the highest score first.
The Loop
No, that’s all right… ha-ha… Yeah, I, I like stockpiling those things. What about the Loop? Ohhh…we got completely soaked, so maybe…well, you know, I, I really enjoyed the rain…ah-hah-hah…it was fun. I hadn’t been out running in the rain for awhile… My sandals so I just took ‘em off.
Lenore
Oh, that’s good…yeah…alright…I did not. I did not. Nuh-uh. What did you say? I did not say that, Lenore… I don’t think I said that. I really don’t remember saying that…Hm. Yeah, I was also talkin to Rafe about it today… What’s that?…[laugh]… No, well we got up at seven instead of 6:45. See, you don’t even remember it that well. You forgot the time that it happened—a half an hour wrong! You don’t remember any of the details, do you? You just remember Things.
Time is irrelevant? Yeah, it’s not important. So are the words that I used, huh?…[sigh]…Well,…ah, wait (?)…12:42…no…. I was kinda gettin tired [clear throat] and I wanted to, to call you before it was too late, so…I kind of pushed ‘em out…at the same time.…
Chicken Salad
So your house was fine? Your house was fine?… Is there still stuff in the freezer in that house?… Yeah… mm-hm… Well, not now… [p-shaw]… Gonna make some chicken salad tomorrow… You have class 'til eight-thirty?…. Alright, I’ll make some chicken salad sandwiches,… and I’ll make I’ll make… I’ll make, ah—you come over here and I’ll make dinner… and, ah, then we’ll go to your house and eat ice cream… you wanna do that?…
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CSPANOCRACY
Due to the water shortage, water was available only from 6:00-8:00 and from 18:00-20:00. Jenkins, who had sipped too much whisky the night before, woke up at 8:30 and, a few seconds later, rushed to the faucet. He turned the cold handle and put his cupped hands underneath, but nothing. He stepped out of the … Continue reading CSPANOCRACY
I better bes Swprawlnn
John said, “I’ll get stoned and write. What better?” Jack said, “Get stoned and paint.” He then leaned over to take a rip from the GB. He was, once again, a full-timer. What did it mean? It meant he didn’t want to talk on the phone. Nothing new there, though. It meant his mouth felt … Continue reading I better bes Swprawlnn
Unavailable Unavailable
When the phone rang, I suddenly thought of an ex-girlfriend sitting in a smoky bar somewhere on the other side of town with hair in her eyes and a cell phone in her hand. Either that or my mother rolling over in bed to pick up her own receiver.
The receiver—still a-ring, I realized—lay at the side of my bed, far away from its base and the caller ID box. I answered it anyway.
"Hello?"
"I didn’t think you were going to pick up."
"It’s late."
I sat halfway up in bed and patted some still-damp patches of hair into place. An ambulance cried in the distance.
"They’re coming for you."
"Where were you today?"
"I won’t be around tomorrow either. I thought you should know..."
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