Palast der Republik
by Paul Murphy, April 2007
"Now they must destroy the Palast der Republik, a reminder that the old society was once new, for who wants such a reminder? Out with the new old and in with the new old new. They say that 'some people want to back to that'. (the new old) Perhaps it is the one in five Berliners who are currently unemployed, wearing rags or hand-me-downs."
The Vegetarian Inquisition
by Jon Alan Carroll, April 2007
"He'd crossed the line, there was no defense. For some crimes, there can be no forgiveness. Ty could feel all the steak and chops and meatloaf he'd ever eaten sitting there in his veins, waiting for the day they'd send him to the boneyard."
The Sheep
by Luis Rivas, April 2007
"The clerk looked at the girl from behind the counter, at her brown purposeful eyes, her loose fitting white shirt that hid her small braless tits and accentuated her dark brown nipples, her nervous shaking hands that hung by her sides. She smiled awkwardly, her face contorting and making her look ugly -- which she was not. She was neither ugly nor beautiful in the typical sense of the word..."
Three I Ching Hexagrams
by Lily Hoang, April 2007
"Mother & Father being good Catholic martyrs & Mother & Father going to church every Sunday & Father building pieces of church in our backyard & Father back then with hands so strong & even now that Father is weak Father still building with numb fingers & Mother & Father both sick & Mother with cancer eating & shitting & Father walking slowly & they are guilty of many things but sickness still inside them & they're innocent of many things & sickness remains inside"
Murder in Utopia
by Tala Bar, March 2007
"When it was over, I went outside. The air was clear and sharp, I thought the stars were mocking me... I walked about for a very long time, round and round that peak; I could have fallen over the cliff myself that night, but I didn't. Then the moon rose, and I saw that silhouette, a dark figure crouching at the edge of the cliff. I came near it – it was That Man; he did not notice me, probably engrossed in some new ideas for a poem... It was so easy..."
Diet
by Paul Kavanagh, March 2007
"With audacity, with a pinch of boldness and if need be a lashings of lies, he knew how to handle the bill. With balderdash, he would answer the questions of the undercover cop. His belly with opprobrium growled obstreperously. One of Giacometti's walking men. He felt like a Greek kouros, nay, skin and bones was all he was. Langden wished that he had covered his torso."
Maoists Don't Make Puppets
by Randy Lowens, March 2007
At last Henry's group reached the locus of the staging area and laid the puppet down. Henry noted with chagrin that his fellows seemed none the worse for the march. They, too, had been beaten by police at a recent sit-in, on the floor of a military recruiter's office. Although Henry could argue that his head wound had been the most grievous, still he was peeved at being so spent, and silently vowed to drink less and exercise more.
The Dentist
by Jessica Schneider, March 2007
'"It's Gretchen," she reminded me. And I only wanted to remind her that I was only kidding, and that laughing gas would have done the trick. But before I could object, she downed the shot in one single swig, leaning her sensuous, soft neck backwards, as I watched the tequila go down her smooth esophagus.'
"Borg Shards," "Blood of the Savior," and "Chez Quiet Desperation"
by John Bennett, March 2007
'A mother with an angel of a daughter no older than four just walked past my car.
"Mommy, why is that man sitting in that hot car smoking cigarettes?" she asked.
"Hush, Grace," said her mother.
I thought it was a fair question.'
Offerings
curated by Holly Crawford, ongoing, released here January 2007
Offerings is a dynamic and ever-growing project curated by Holly Crawford that presents art at its most basic: a form of communication, a social exercise, "owned" by no one. It is constantly updated on Holly Crawford's web site and embedded here, and will continue to expand over time.
Missing
by Martha L. Deed, January 2007
"I've been working on the aftermath of a 1998 murder in western New York that has affected an unusually large number of people and tested the criminal justice system to its limits. Originally, I thought I would write a book, but as I worked my way through the materials made available to me, I realized that I had something quite special, quite powerful, and that 'the story' cried out for multimedia web presentation.
I STALKED MARTHA STEWART!
a novella by Vernon Frazer, January 2007
"Inside the covers of each of the books comprising our display of Martha Stewart's new bestseller, Own the World Through Good Taste, public relations coordinator Norexia Pruinn found a poem riddled with obscene, pornographic and other objectionable material that violates our Family Values policy written by the disturbed and disgruntled Avery Blank, a failed poet known for his outspoken rudeness."
It Pays to Eat at McDonald's
by Justin Hyde, December 2006
"They were standing in front of the pop dispenser. Shooting it into their cupped hands and slurping it up. Was it Coke? Dr. Pepper? I can't tell you because I couldn't see through the adipose tissue and dual thickets of dirty brown hair. I could only hear the slurping, clicking of the mechanism and that torqued chortle native to ultra obese children."
Saintly Acts
by Bonny Finberg, December 2006
"He once had a Gym teacher—a real wise guy—who gave pep talks before high school basketball games. He used to say that nothing's impossible except trying to lick your own elbow.
"Thinking about it now—he wonders about it—the taste of what you cannot reach— Waiting to be conquered.
Porno for the Lord
"...the Lord did tell her to use her talents. And what talents did she have if not as an actress? And where else could she act except in pornos? A conundrum if ever there was one. After all, you couldn't exactly preach the teachings of the Lord with your legs spread from East to West. Who would listen? And who pay to watch such a thing?"
"Open Wide" and "Down on the Ol' Implantation"
by Richard Denner, December 2006
"After having the radioactive seed implantation, I was feeling bruised and glowing wildly and needed healing vibes from everyone, but now, after some weeks, I feel less oppressed having cancer, and I'm released from the constant deliberation of the should I shouldn't I wait and see mental games going on in my head. The operation was really no worse than a kick in the groin with a steel-toed boot..."
Density Dependence
by Joel Van Noord, November 2006
"The world was undergoing its second wave. During the first wave the poor perished in the millions, as the earth failed them first. The rich were able to buy armies and secure resources. The richest nations were the ones that'd been able to hold onto the luxury goods the longest; they also held onto the illusion of control the longest."
Hilarity Ensued
by Nick Bredie, November 2006
"The aspiring authors would end up in the cargo hold of the last tramp steamer in the world. It was actually a steamer, and after they had vomited a few times, the aspiring authors would be put to work shoveling coal to the coke ovens that power the old timey turbines. They were projecting themselves towards Lagos, but they didn't know it. Upon reaching Lagos harbor they were blindfolded and led into rail cars."
The Mystery of the Monkey's Heart
by Norman A. Rubin, November 2006
"Now at that time there was a nasty crocodile dwelling in the waters near where Kshatriya had his place of rest. Through the years, the reptile managed to avoid interferring into the peaceful life of the monkey god. They kept apart, each staying in their own territory."
The Man and the Dog
by Luis Rivas, November 2006
"He dug into his front-right pant pocket, his fingers blindly scouring for a cigarette. He retrieved it, the half-smoked cigarette, pinching it in between his index and middle finger and bringing it up to his mouth. His right hand went back into the pant pocket and found a book of matches. He stopped walking. The matchbook was thin, an alarming sign for the moment; he flicked the cover back with a finger. One match left. Shit."
Quench
by Lora Gardner, November 2006
"And once you've been in a place like this, that will probably never happen. That kind of so-called love can't make you go mad until you die, unless it's suicide, and then, then that's something else, because nobody ever stops loving as much as somebody else and so it doesn't count. But, you can have it like that and things like jealousy can come and cheating and then the madness has a chance to grow..."
"Nothing Says Party" and "Two Suitcases"
by The Name Is Dalton, October 2006
"After a week of staring into the blue light, he decided to sell the machine. He wrote letters to forgotten friends, asking if they needed a decent television set. A month passed, the postman only gave him more eviction notices and overdue utility bills."
Ode to Serling
by Linda A. Lavid, October 2006
"Mentally, she removes his glasses. Nothing is more naked than a person without their glasses. His eyebrows are bushy. That much she can tell. But are his eyes beady or a speckled hazel that changes color? Does it matter? She moves on. There's no telltale sign of any sexual organ, no slight bulge or thickness off to the side."
A Deal with the Devil
by Rob Rosen, October 2006
'"Well, to be fair, she cheated on me first," John said, in his defense.
'"Be that as it may, it's still adultery."
'"But everyone does it," he countered.
'"Which is why Hell is such a crowded place."
Sparks
by Richard Denner, October 2006
The time is spring; the place, Berkeley. The Mediterranean Café on Telegraph Avenue. A woman and a man are seated at a square, marble table. He is a dandy. She is glossily beautiful, like a 40's sex movie star. They are in a pin-spot of light. Behind them looms a mural abounding with Greek gods and goddesses. They know each other really well.
from Secession
by A. R. Lamb, September 2006
"The first day and night she slept between sips of mutton-broth. The second morning she felt well enough to sit up when Demelza and Jack came in. They brought with them a black, steel, padlocked box. They set it down beside her, handed her the key. Inside, she found a Cornish-English dictionary, a couple of phrase-books, a grammar, some original texts. They indicated that she was to immerse herself in study."
Permanent Record
by Andrew Dugas, September 2006
"Mark has cooperated all morning. He cooperated when the agents asked him to come with them. Voluntarily, of course. He cooperated when they handcuffed him and eased him into the back of their sedan. He cooperated when they made him wait in a small room full of stale cigarette smoke and an overflowing pressed tin ashtray... And when they wanted a blood sample, he cooperatively rolled up his sleeve."
I'm Here and Waiting
by Joel Van Noord, September 2006
"They've holed up here. In the hospital; they're primitive but even a fist can be deadly. They have some powerful weapons, rockets and what not and we hide behind walls. Even in the most dense urban areas there is still too much space. It's actually the worst type of environment to be engaged in. If it was all flats we'd have our tanks and play cards as we won the engagement. If it was even denser we'd slip between buildings and through windows."
Count Gregory Grubb's Game of Cards
by Norman A. Rubin, September 2006
"The count was a nefarious villain, trading in all sorts of all principles of evil to attain his fortune; a major act of gain was through the wicked rulings through the fear of witchcraft of all sorts. Count Grubb was a magistrate for the Crown during the era of the Inquisition where he reveled in the punishment of the so-called witches and sorcerers; their property were forfeited in supposed guilt and it fell into his hands."
Endemic
by J.R., September 2006
"Items are placed on sale in a supermarket. Two fat girls bring the items to the register, but the sales don't ring up. The cashier needs to call management. The items are trivial, like gum. Lines form as the girls hold up the line getting the manager. Gauge the line's reactions, their perception of the two fat girls, how quickly they become intemperate.
Duplicate for pretty girls."
The Sorrows of Aldwin
by George Sparling, July 2006
'Alice observed the guy reaming a MILF's anal highway had a smaller dick than the other man's bone stretching her pussy.
'"'A signifier that has lost its signified has thereby transformed itself in an image,'" she said. "Have you read Fredric Jameson's Postmodernism and Consumer Society?"'
I Got an Asshole Transplant and It Rejected Me
by Joe Pachinko, July 2006
"People, more people, people, and I see some another disdainful ectogirl coming down the street. My salvation? My salivating angel? Or my destructress arriving? The eyes, cross eyed, insane. The lips, a voluptuous smear of blood. Another woman downstreet walking hand in hand. But the hand she's holding onto is a severed hand, and no longer attached to a body."
Chiseling My Nose to Splice My Fate
by P. S. Ehrlich, July 2006
"He was too the hell tall and too the hell wide and too the hell tan. Travolta disco coif and Burt Reynolds moustache. Three-piece suit the color of bad salad dressing, its lapels wider than pterodactyl wings. Possibly a shirt beneath the pinched-waist jacket, but if so only to offset the gold chains and gold medallions and pelt of Gucci chest hair."
Shit Willy
by Ryan Undeen, July 2006
"Always full a' piss and hate, most of all them other folks is. Didn't ever make much sense to poor Shit Willy. He always reckoned from what he'd seen that people gets shit done the best when they tries to be friendly. It just seems that so much pissed off is floatin' in the world that a man can't take two steps without slippin' in the devil's hate fallin' into some sort of reckless rage."
Dear Dr. Rice
by Linda A. Lavid, July 2006
'"The Constitution sucks, totally anachronistic. Now the Bill of Rights, that's a document." Kinta was sitting behind a stack of files. A ragged, half-eaten sandwich was in front of her. Mayonnaise and crumbs left grease spots on one of the manila folders. She took a bite. "So how much money do you want?" she mumbled.'
Biting Auntie Gin
by spiel, June 2006
"I foam at the mouth like a rabid skunk. My jaw locks rigid. My lower denture bites my upper gum. My nose runs freely. I think my left nostril bleeds. I desperately yank Gin's angel white hair downward toward her pillow. I feel no resistance. I retch something that looks and tastes like thrice spent buttermilk..."
Eruptions
by Brent Powers, June 2006
"There's some slight, some insult. It hurts, sure, it pisses me off. Usually it means nothing to the guilty party, he's just mouthing off or venting or something, but I feel it, I bleed. Nothing to him. He just goes on. He, she ... it's not gender specific. Just goes on with their stuff, whatever it is, usually something pointless. So, some slight, some little insult, maybe even a big one said in jest, Oh surely you jest (asshole) ..."
Visualizing the Reach it Would Give Her
by Nathan Lee Smith, June 2006
'"I don't know why," her father says into the phone. "It was just some kid—" he pauses—"well, I don't know that either." He picks up the bottle and holds it up to the light as he listens. He tries to decipher what part of it struck him. "Recourse?" he says, setting the bottle back down and standing up to pace behind the couch—"there's no recourse.'
Smoldered
by Uche Peter Umez
"As the traffic eases a little, Ezillo starts his car, following the Kia in front, cautiously, not driving too closely, to avoid a dent on his Mazda. He slackens the knot of his tie, turning his neck this way and that, then mops his sweating brow with a handkerchief. He notices the smoke is still wafting up, spreading through the air; vultures circling overhead."
Murdering Rhymes
by Rob Rosen, June 2006
"Humpty Dumpty didn't fall. He was pushed; like our dead friend, Jack, down there probably was. There was a witness. Old Mother Hubbard. She was out dog bone shopping at the time. Said she saw a woman up on the wall with Mr. Dumpty. One minute they were fighting, the next, splat, egg drop soup. Not a pretty sight, from what I heard. And the sole witness had forgotten her glasses at home, so no positive I.D."
"static" and "we dream of escape, we wake up"
by John Sweet, June 2006
"February in a dying city, and nothing on the radio. You next to me saying I think I'm pregnant. You next to me, saying nothing. Telling me that the last time you saw your father, he lived in this neighborhood, and I can still smell you on my fingertips. I can still remember being in love with you."
