*Featured image courtesy of anncapictures on pixabay.com* Emmalene wanted her daddy to do like everyone else’s—to fix her chain when it fell off her bike, to make enough money so they could move from the boarding house on Main Street, where Mommy and Daddy slept in the big bed and she and Ricky lay on a mattress beside the radiator that hissed in winter. She wanted to feel proud of her daddy like the sisters on The Brady Bunch were proud of theirs. Emmalene’s daddy had potential, her mommy said on the phone to Aunt Lisa. A whiz at electronics, he could talk his way into any job, though keeping it was another matter—a challenge, Mommy said. Sometimes he spent the day in bed smoking Camel cigarettes and nursing a bitch of a hangover. Emmalene wondered what colors in her Crayola box would best…
Soldier’s Home by Sharon Dean
*Featured image courtesy of KaraSuva on Pixabay.com* I cross the street to the main campus that shows off its New Hampshire beauty as if it were posing for the cover of Yankee Magazine. The grass, green from spring rain and freshly mowed, slopes to buildings bathed in sunlight. Students walk in and out of Murkland and Hamilton Smith Halls carrying armloads of books. I read the inscription on the façade of the library that I’d read so many times as an undergrad. “Ye shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free.” When I go into the library, the dizzying stripes of its carpet remind me that this isn’t 1964 and that my now graduate student self has learned to ask “Whose truth?” UNH is a different place. Gone is the concept of…
3 Poems by Michael Bruebach
*Featured image courtesy of Kie-ker on Unsplash* A Grove Near Maggie Daley Park Don’t dream the day is still in front of us. all light in the grove; dead grass like sand all over the threadbare grounds, this hollowed clearing in the urban forest, ancient orchard obstructs the concrete sky. The Man who sits across the grounds has hands like a prophet, they are massive and awash in sunlight. twice, He kneels down into the sandpaper grass, throws His hands together toward the sky, and cries out. begs. wails. my shoulders shake out of reverence or fear. twice, He resumes reading when there is no apparent answer, licks His thumb and turns the page with a grin I am trying to stomach. my bare feet hold the dirt in some old form of offering. it…
I am Conscious, Therefore I Am
Thoughts On Why We Are Conscious, by Steve Sangapore *Featured image courtesy of geralt on pixabay.com* What is consciousness? How did life originate? Are we alone in the universe? What is the solution to the marriage of general relativity and quantum mechanics? These are, among many others, some of the deepest wonders the human mind grapples with. Some are fairly recent to our catalog of existential mysteries while others have been with us since our ancient ancestors first gazed up at the heavens. In our modern time, these great questions have been left at the foot of the scientific enterprise as we patiently await new progress and developments that bring us closer to resolving these mysteries. One of them, however, is not like the others. Consciousness and conscious experience are understood as the subjective, intrinsic qualities…
National Poetry Month – 2025
*Featured Image courtesy of Christy Mandin and Poets.org* Fictional Cafe celebrates National Poetry Month for the fifth year in a row. We’re celebrating National Poetry Month once again! If you’d like to participate, feel free to submit your poetry here. At the end of the month, our Baristas will get together and vote on their favorites, with the top 3 poems earning a featured spot on the website. In addition, the winners will receive a free copy of our poetry writer in residence’s book – Echoes Lost in Stars. Good luck, and happy writing! National Poetry Month additional info: here.
Two Men in Davos by Albert L. Rodriguez
*Featured image courtesy of MabelAmber on Pixabay* Two men sat down to determine the future population trend of the world. The meeting took place in a secure VIP room in an exclusive five-star hotel in Davos, Switzerland. Both men had their crews of assistants and on-the-spot analysts. They both represented a collaborating syndicate of billionaires. The meeting was top-notch secretive. One of the men had just flown in from Paris. The other had been hosed down naked in a yacht and rubbed with a soap that featured gold and diamond powder just a few hours before in an undisclosed Greek Island. The shorter one was a Frenchman. The taller one was American. But neither of them were public figures. They were discreet operatives mostly known in the elite worlds of multinational corporations and international banking. …
5 Poems by Allison Whittenberg
*Featured image courtesy of Ulrike Mai on Pixabay* This week features some wonderful poems by Allison Whittenberg. We always appreciate uniqueness at FC, and Allison’s gritty style certainly appealed to us. Take a look for yourself and tell us what you think! Proximity going out for breakfast and never coming back my husband left me in my wheelchair green from the insurance, gone so is the time I could have insisted more the driver was my friend, can you deep sue a friend? the accident, foreseeable to anyone who wasn’t seeking fun and 18 7 of us piling in 4 seats handsome man from influential family turbo style driving on the wrong side of the road jeep flips we catapult I land in a tree I can’t feel my legs 7 hours of surgery I…
8 Art Pieces by QQ Yi
*Curated by Fine Arts Barista, Yucen Yao* We have another set of art pieces this week, this time featuring QQ Yi. It is clear that QQ is a talented artist in many of its mediums: from painting, to writing, and music as well. I hope she shares her work with us again in the future as she continues to grow as a person and an artist. Artist Statement: I enjoy smearing words on your face, just like spreading paint on a canvas. What is medium, truly? It is the essence of mountains, kiwis, books, melodies, winds, birds, dried fragments of skin, dumplings, Sichuan peppercorns, the passing of three birthdays, nocturnal pathways, the inexplicable affection for another, stones, Pat Martino’s guitar riffs, chairs, a light bulb cradled in a pillowcase, the hummingbird outside my window, the…
10 Collage Pieces by Joe Suh
We have something special for you all on FC this week. Our Arts and Design barista, Yucen Yao, has been working hard since she joined, and we finally have a chance to show some of the work she has curated for us. First up, we have a set of collage pieces by Joe Suh. I especially resonated with Joe’s artist statement because I feel like it embodies what Fictional Café stands to be – a creative space for artists to express and share their passions. I’m happy Joe decided to share his work with us, and I hope he shares more of his creations with us in the future. Artist Statement: My personal practice focuses on the physical and meditative exploration that comes from creating physical collages in a digitally dominated profession. As a contrast…
“Wire Man” by Andrew Newall
*Featured image courtesy of FenesiKinga on Pixabay.com* Heroes can come in all shapes and sizes, and Andrew Newall proves that in his wonderful piece, “Wire Man”. This is a very unique story that I’m sure all of you will enjoy, and I look forward to seeing more stories from Andrew in the future. A little man made from one rod of wire, no more than eight inches tall, shrugged off his motionless pose and walked to the edge of his high shelf to look across the studio. Strewn with drawing and painting utensils, it was standard chaotic clutter uplifted by striking watercolours, pastels and models lying here and there. The artist had left for lunch. That familiar sound of the door locking signalled play time for the wire man and his colleagues. Papier mâché figures…