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Sherlock Holmes and Al Capone Search through Time and Genre for Hannibal Lecter
by Brad Johnson, July 2008
"Sherlock's feet pad their way across the wood floor, find their way out the front door and into a spectacle. Men and women scream "bollocks!", undertrained police bustle and give directions and a strange vehicle with flaming tracks is parked indiscreetly on the sidewalk in front of his stairs. Seeing that the people, and more importantly the cops, begin to notice his prescence, he commands his newly-cleaned feet to return him to his less lighted, more familiar dwelling."
Golden Egg
by Durenda, July 2008
"Durenda didn't feel very close to her half brothers and sisters. She was forced to take care of them when Ma didn't but they didn't mind her. Because they were wild children she didn't feel the need to comb or caress their loneliness. She didn't hold Bobby as he cried when he was shot in the eye with a BB gun and his brown eye turned blue. She thought the pets David drug home were nasty and she didn't cry when they died of starvation."
A Letter from Lotonym
by Ryan Undeen, July 2008
'Well, you can see I've told this story a thousand times, so I know what you'll ask next. No one cares about my personal experience, the love I felt, nor the way she danced in my eyes even when she slept. Everyone asks, "Were-weasel? How did you become a were-weasel?"'
A Third of Methuselah
by Tim Millas, July 2008
"The Hales did not welcome him. In fact, the moment their shock subsided they threw him out—or rather Uncle David threw him out; David Hale was the family's unofficial patriarch, because he was the wealthiest and the loudest. He immediately recognized this person as a threat, although, when pressed, he couldn't say what kind. A trickster, out to make fools of them? A con artist, trying to steal the family fortune? Or just a crazy old man?"
scarecrows
by J. A. Tyler, July 2008
"He rides a bike. It is yellow. And the sun is yellow. And the grass is green and the house is white and the tulips are red and his face is mindless."
The Packing Plant
by Joy Raab-Faber, June 2008
"There used to be a meat packing plant next to a big feedlot here. Then it was a gravel pit. Now it's just a dump. Dry rotting tires hunch over the ground like farmers at a corn roast. Broken washing machines and rusty refrigerators stand guard over desiccated arroyos. Shiny brass bullet casings and red and green plastic-jacketed buckshot shells litter gravel canyons. Decaying dogs testify potently to lazy flies."
Pop Goes the Bubble
by Andrew Porterfield, June 2008
"Dan, the pervert; he's been at. Two separate accusations were made against him this week. On Monday the mother of a girl in his advanced kindergarten graduate class came in to report what had happened. She told the vice-principle that Dan had kept her daughter behind after class for not doing homework and that's when it happened."
Meat Puppet
by Jim Chaffee, June 2008
"I remember the poor bastard's blood. Not gobs of it clotting in great liver-like chunks, like you'd expect in war, but rather a single drop viewed at a focal point projected with convex lenses in a pair of tubes; image resolved to enlarge and discriminate between corpuscles burst and whole swimming in the azure-dyed pin-prick's ooze squeezed between glass slides; corpuscles intermingled like the lucky and not so lucky adrift in a battlefield of some purple swamp."
Michael and the Final Fix
by Tom Sheehan, June 2008
'"Michael," said Todd Grimson from his wheelchair in the facility's dayroom, quantum sparkle in his eyes, energy lifting itself, "What do you do, outside of here, to get so damn muscular and," he flashed his eyes, "so chocolaty?" One thick, gray eyebrow, parted by the faintest of scars, moved with his question, leveled in interpretation.'
The Borscht I Gave the World
by George Sparling, June 2008
"I'd just been released from a halfway house for the mentally ill, and began translating Thomas Pynchon, Against the Day into Arabic. I had a private room in a Victorian, sharing it with a older man who was recovering from spinal surgery. I was to be his caregiver for about a month or so, at least until he could walk on his own. My papers, dictionaries and Roget's Thesaurus scattered across my table, I grieved over the first word, 'Now.'"
These Creatures Look Crooked
by James Wall, June 2008
'"Do you love me?" she asks. I don't say anything. She is quickly asleep, her breathing ragged, high. I finish the bottle and the cigarette and get up and take my clothes off in the dark and lay back down. Everything seems blue, and the smell is stronger. I gag slightly and then put my arm across my forehead and smell the cologne on my wrist.'
Unlimited Right of Association
by Dawn Corrigan, May 2008
"LOCAL WOMAN BUYS COMMIE STATUE, INSTALLS IN BACK YARD, the headline reads. Beneath there's a photo of the statue of Vladimir Lenin that Mrs. Heretick purchased on eBay. The Hereticks stand before it. The photographer had to kneel down to get all three faces—Mrs. Heretick's, Mr. Heretick's, and Lenin's—in the picture."
Sandblast Me Beautiful!
by John Michael Cummings, May 2008
"All the while, Thad's arm was getting socked by ice as he leaned out the door and lunged for her. Car horns went on blowing. Finally, Rosie yanked up her shirt, showing the highway her breasts.
"'Oh, sandblast me beautiful!' she cried out, proceeding to do a jig on the roadway, her face and breasts getting pelted.
The Last Straw
by Jared Booth, May 2008
"I didn't mind that so much — after all, the only person he's harming there is himself, and if that's what he wants to do then that's his fuckin choice, innit? But knocking that old lass off her scooter was the last fuckin straw. I was that close to calling the cops on the arrogant little shite. But what would that've achieved? Fuck all. So I bought a pen instead, and put him in that."
Four Seasons for Serena
by Tyke Johnson, May 2008
"Fridays we wouldn't have sex. We wouldn't eat meat. We would talk very little for she prayed all day in Russian. 'God' was the only word I understood other than 'sorry.' These two words seemed to be in every sentence and this drove me mad. She was a stranger on Fridays so I'd disappear into the landscape. Walk towards the waters and the fields, all over, but never towards the woods. They were too dense and I feared I'd never be able to find my way back."
Throwing Puppies
by Alexios Antypas, May 2008
"We weren't losers, we weren't high, and until that very moment, not one of us had shown any inclination to excess. It was just one of those things you don't ever want to try to fully explain: Marin picks up the puppy and hurls it towards the ravine."
squibs
by Frank Sloan, April 2008
"What we discover are the crumbling pavement and rusting, teetering bridges. What we discover are pastures chewed to death by atv's and washed away by over grazing. What we encounter are invasive species that choke out all native life and swarms of dope fiends that invade every forsaken farmhouse. What we fail to discover are peace and insight and community under the sacred skies of the pioneers."
Instant Gratification
by Gabrielle Sierra, April 2008
"The suited man behind me laughed suddenly, then turned it into a forced cough. Brave Dragon looked from us to Han, and dug into his pockets, pulling out a wad of money and what looked like a pinecone. He slapped the money into Han's open hand, and placed the pinecone on top. It was small and covered in silver glitter. It had two googley eyes pasted on top."
One Hand Clapping, Two Lips Whistling
by Joel Van Noord, April 2008
"The song ended and he realized that for however long the song had been, he'd assumed there was nothing outside the song. He looked around and things were still there, faces blurred, sweat mingled with color in the sentient lights."
Getting Dead
by Peter Schwartz, April 2008
"I see a goat standing in the bath. The smell is ancient and almost evil. I ask Danny what the fuck is in the bathroom because Kingpin is a psychopath and might hammer a nail in my hand or something if he thinks I'm disrespecting him. Danny looks confused and then says I imagine a toilet."
Dark Eyes
by Linda A. Lavid, April 2008
"We, your honey and I, were standing naked, performing in front of the dresser. A movie of ourselves reflected back. I was leaning over at the time being taken from the back. Each thrust rattled the lotions, make-up and early morning coffee cup. That's when I saw your picture tucked into the corner of the mirror. I hadn't known, suspected, considered your dark eyes until that moment when the tentacles of you reached out."
"An Argument for Torture" and "In Defense of the Day's Job"
by Brad Johnson, April 2008
"A young woman enters in a nun's habit. She is naked but for the habit. She opens a stool and sets it across from Rumsfeld. She insults him. His fat stomach. His pathetic penis that could never please a woman. His thin legs. His woman-like muscles. She aims a hose at his genitals. If his head dips into sleep she shoots scalding water at him. This is repeated each time his head dips."
Anonymous Gun
by Kurtice Kucheman, April 2008
'I was offered some coke, but refused as I was too tuned up on the meth I had been bumping the entire substance-corroded road trip down. "STOP!" I stare out of a monsoon of swirling colors passing in the damp autumn air. The wino has produced an M80 from his pocket and reaches into his pants, inserting it into his rectum. He strips, and gets down on his hands and knees. "All I ask of you Anna, is that you light the fuse...."'
Swan Maiden
by Tala Bar, March 2008
"Sygna came to live with Alan in his cabin as if they were husband and wife, although there had never been a wedding. Her enchantment filled the house and the village, and people accepted her as one of them – only an unaffected stranger could have seen the difference. But while he went on with his business, hunting in the forest to bring in their daily food, she was never occupied as the other women."
Ten Reasons Not to Wear Shoes
by Kent Clements, March 2008
"Paul, I want you to put those on this very instant. If you don't, we are going to have a very serious problem. Put them on, and we can go into this nice store, and find something good to buy." Barbara's grip on the wheel was tightening and her temper was loosening; these last statements were spoken in a deep, throaty voice, almost a growl. Paul did nothing for the time being: he continued to look out the window, clearly making his best attempt to escape the situation."
Queen of Atlantis
by Larry Gaffney, March 2008
"On the morning of my fortieth birthday I sat quietly in my office pondering the sad fact that I had taken too many wrong turns in life. I was completely alone. There would be no party, no friends dropping by later with gifts. The woman I had loved for five years was no longer in the picture. It would have been nice on this day to hear her voice, but she had moved to New York and was not taking my calls."
Tale of an Indian Lesbian
by Sharmila Mukherjee, March 2008
"When all the crows of New Delhi retire to their nests, the dream of Lesbos comes to her. She is on an island where there are no men. Pretty-faced women dot the landscape like figurines from an erotic temple panel. Eyes that dance like butterflies, olive skins, full lips, firm buttocks make poetry of seamlessly sutured parts in their busty frames."
Father Truth
by Brent Powers, March 2008
'"Are you still hearing things? Seeing things?" Nemo asked. Harley called him Nemo even though that wasn't his name, nobody's name, it means Nobody, dig? Or No Man. Real handle was "Doctor" something but Harley just didn't bother with it. He didn't bother with much. Him the doctor, Jack. Doctor. So why not call him Doctor Jack? CORRECTION: JACK-EL, get it? Good enough for guvmint work we say in Real War Which.'
The Prize
by Tantra Bensko, January 2008
"What is it about recording 13 dreams in one night that sends magnetic waves out from the center of You? They pulse roundly, returning, a dark blue sense of sound. What is it about the center dream, the 7th dream that creates the others? Time pulses forwards and backwards from each moment, hits what's there, adds to what's there, and bounces back with information to the present, recreating it."
Thieves
by Pat King, January 2008
"Judith and William had been together for four years. They were married the summer after high school. One day, she just left. She brought a few changes of clothes and slept on my couch. At first, William called nearly every day. But Judith wouldn't talk to him. Instead, he talked to me."
Kevin Bacon and the Liquid Zoo
by Luis Rivas, January 2008
"Cherry used to be a prostitute. She isn't anymore. No one knows why. She doesn't talk about it. A majority of her clientele were black men. Her big, fat ass made her very sought after. Cherry is a recovering meth addict and alcoholic. Cherry is HIV Positive."
Jehovah Love Bunny
by Paul Corman-Roberts, January 2008
"But the Jehovah's earned my respect years ago by not willing to stop at the sidewalk, but instead to bring their vending booth right into my house. Hell, I'd let them in, offer them coffee or tea, sit down at the table and seriously discuss scripture with them for about ten minutes before breaking out a Death's head bong, taking a rip, and shot-gunning it back out in their direction."
Chickenheard and Fishboy
by Leah Erickson, January 2008
"So she was painting the trees that day, grapey purple, a blazing orange. I was at the kitchen table reading the Tibetan Book of the Dead. That's when they came.
An unmarked government van pulled up. Two men came out wearing jumpsuits covered in patches. They looked like race car drivers, only the patches had names of prescription drugs on them. Things like Zovirax, Nimotop, and Cyclogyl.
Orgulho
by James Chaffee, January 2008
"I asked for Matt but the men waved me off. I watched with them as the pink-nosed, mottled dog came in low with a sudden lunge for the dark brute's neck and locked on. With a fast head toss it pulled back with a mouthful of flesh. The other dog's head lolled to one side. It tried to stand but followed its head into the spreading pool of its own blood."
The Journal of a North American Artifact
by Jon Rentler, December 2007
'The breath was caught in a moment. Their ears rung. The wind stuttered. The atmosphere flickered. But back to their drinks and dates when they can swallow again with their lungs inflating, a slurred pout-lipped youth mutters, "This place doesn't fit right." Curling his hands up in his coat sleeves. I slept beside them sound and safe across the sea. I slept through our end.'
port of the lost and found
by Ray Brown, December 2007
"a revelation at dusk with the rhythms of the shadows and the middle-class families looking for refuge. the outrageous becomes the every day. you never see the same thing twice. the fleeting flowers of neon and dingy formulas open wide the gaps of meaning. the circus is in full form. the faces of plastic happiness and the cold struggle change and shift, as tourists flock to the disturbed excitement."
Sequels
by Howard Waldman, December 2007
"That happened to me last year. No sequels you could see except maybe the way I was shivering at 105 degrees, like I had a ton if ice in my belly and chest. But I wasn't going to spoil him with that story."
Winter Kills
by Kyle Hemmings, December 2007
"I had worked as an audio engineer in Chelsea, where she recorded demos. That was before she decided to trash her career and her life. I fell hard in love with Martha and wanted to save both. Maybe she reminded me of myself before rehab. Now days, I can't even save myself. Maybe it's what we both want. To be a player in each other's destruction."
The Preview Customer
by Luis Rivas, December 2007
"The night's warm with a soft wind that's drying the water on his hands. The palm trees sway lightly with the breeze, their branches making scratching noises as they rub up against each other. He walks up to Delano St, makes a right and puts his hands in his pockets. He feels the soft, squishing of his wet underwear in his front left pocket. He immediately pulls out his hands as if he had just touched a piping hot plate."
The Phantom from the Looking Glass
by Norman A Rubin, November 2007
"I left the hospital being careful not to let anyone see me standing before any shop windows or mirrors along the streets, in the cafes, or the shop fronts. People are easily surprised; you know, especially when they see a person without his image on a storefront glass. They would want to know why and how, and then I should have to explain."
