Section » Fiction
First and Last Scene
“I loved her, you know that.” But the wind was a vacuum, dragging the sincerity away with the leaves in a whisper across his feet and over the hill. Tumbling, rolling, tiny bodies caught in a fateful gust. “Without love people wouldn’t get into messes like these. I’m not the master of my own fate. I’m like…
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The Cockroaches
It was the last shift I ever worked in that shit-hole. It all fell apart smack dab in the dinner rush when I looked up from the sink and saw a forkful of Dale’s middle finger on the counter and blood all over the plates and then heard Juan swearing in three languages. The night before our gig with
Charity
Rob’s wife conveniently discovered irreconcilable differences after they won the lottery. Then this was what he learned: 20 years of “yours, mine and ours” were really hers. What he got from the windfall bought solitude without solace. Books and the occasional hooker helped to assuage
The Notebook
Before his name showed up in the tabloids, I knew Jeremy Fry. None of the other waiters noticed him. They cared more about the celebrity bodyguards who came to Club Dredd to unwind and the occasional female porn star. Those clients didn’t interest me, but there was something about Jeremy that did.
The Life Eternal Version 2.2
Has death got you down? Afraid of leaving loved ones behind? Wondering what the point of it all is? Fear no more; with the new “Life Eternal Version 2.2″ from EBBBCO Ltd you’ll be able to send and receive messages instantly from beyond the grave, view other members’ profiles, let
Son of Superman
The first time I saw my father fly was the Christmas of ’75. He was standing on a retractable ladder, hanging lights along our eaves. I was twisting a carrot into a snowman’s face when I heard a sound like somebody had slammed a two-by-four against a brick wall. I spun around just in time
Brief Speeches
“Negro spirituals are outdated.” Maser was always giving his opinions on American life. This was the main reason he had no friends. It was to the point now where he would hang out at Joe’s Coffee Shop or Dillards or Target, or even Kmart here in Akron, Ohio, and do nothing but speak out about insane
Peter Jones and Tisha Box
7 AM: The shrill alarm rings and demands that I rise. My eyes are heavy with denied sleep. My tongue is a matted carpet of cheap booze and vomit, and the film that covers my teeth is thick and greasy. I reach for the glass of water that’s been beside my bed for three days. The dust that floats
Rifts in a River
A waterfall tumbled down over a steep cliff into a circular pool carved out of the ancient rock over millennia of erosion. It was a perfect day, the sun high in the sky, the spray from the waterfall glistening in the bright light, a faint rainbow spanning the pool. Mid-afternoon, the splashing of the
The Thing About His Eyes
The thing about his eyes is that they were never the same twice. I’d stared into his so long and so intently, I ought to have learned them, but I hadn’t. I was constantly caught off guard. The way his skin crinkled at the corners when he smiled, just a tiny bit. The way I could never be truly angry
