Legend of the Treasure Excerpt by Mike Squatrito   “Harrison,” said Pondle, “this doorway seems to be controlled by this lever. And we waited for you before moving it.” “Does everyone know the last two clues?” “We have an idea what to look for. Two rooms to go.” Harrison prepared his weapon, as did everyone else. “All right, Pondle. Let’s enter room number six.” The thief pulled the lever. The portal slowly rose into the ceiling above it, revealing a maze-like passageway lit by torches placed above the eight-foot walls. Lance limped over to Harrison and whimpered. “Bad animal.” The dog began to growl. Harrison looked at Lance and knew just what he meant. “Everyone, be ready for battle.” All of a sudden, a loud clanking emanated from another part of the room, followed by…

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Editor’s Note: We’re pleased to introduce a short story by a new contributor from Australia, Katinka Smit.  Kamaria is leaving. Her eyes are open and the sky is sliding across them. Her spirit shimmies up a tree to catch the sun, the sun that is falling behind the trees. From the sun she will catch the moon. She will leap up into the moon, where she will shine forever. Kamaria will shine forever, smiling like the moon. Pounding feet. I am fast but they have dogs. Pushing the jungle through me, pushing me. I head to where I think I can be free. I leap into the roaring water. My body is sucked down into its crashing weight and I am falling, pounded into the deep below. When I surface, they are waiting for me….

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Photo Courtesy Grace Chu We’ve featured Bonnie Amesquita’s exquisite poetry here at the Café before, and by all accounts she has become one of our favorite writers. And not just with us: her poems get snapped up by literary magazines elsewhere, too, making us awfully proud that she offers us an opportunity to publish her work. Herewith we feature four of her recent poems, and a video bonus: Bonnie reading “A Memory of My Mother at Christmas” which won on the Mother’s Day poetry contest on WNIJ, Northern Illinois University Public Radio. Here’s the direct link to her reading. Congratulations, Bonnie! We think Bonnie’s diligence in writing and getting her work in front of the public is an inspiration to all of us who work in the creative arts. Hurry Up and Wait Drink coffee. Brush teeth. …

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Editor’s Note: We’re pleased to introduce you to an exciting, just-published espionage novel, The Clandestine Consultant, by Luke Bencie. If you like novels by Alex Berenson, David Ignatius or Ian Fleming, you’ll like this story of The Tall Man’s adventures in tradecraft. Author’s Note: All statements of fact, opinion, or analysis expressed are those of the author and do not reflect the official positions or views of the CIA or any other US government agency. Nothing in the contents should be construed as asserting or implying US government authentication of information or Agency endorsement of the author’s views. This material has been reviewed by the CIA to prevent the disclosure of classified information. *        To the other passengers sitting around me in first class, as well as the attentive cabin crew refilling my glass of…

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OK, Café habitués, this is all you get. Now you have to wait until Dory’s book is published. Just on the off chance you missed Part I and Part II, click <there. In Part III, Bastian is getting his team together – although reluctantly – to go to Aderyn’s rescue. And what a team it is, as you shall shortly see. * I was laughing as the door between us and the customer friendly part of The Falinn opened and we walked out. Neeko looked up from his person arsenal and grinned. “About time!” I ignored him. Having Stian and Jadis with us would change our plans and we needed to discuss those changes. “Look, we’ve got some serious stuff to—” The front door opened and Alawi blocked the doorway for an instant before making way…

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Here is the second excerpt from Dory Fiamingo’s absorbing novel, of which I’ve been quoted as saying, “the best fantasy novel I’ve ever read.” The first excerpt appeared yesterday, and the third will be published here at the Café tomorrow. Sebastian (“Bastian”) is an almost-immortal private eye able to leap from one world to another. Maggie, the love of his life, had walked out on him thirty years earlier. She shows up at his cosmic bookstore, The Falinn, and introduces Bastian to Aderyn, her granddaughter (whom she assures him is unrelated). Later that night, the eight-year-old girl, who possesses magical powers, is kidnapped. Bastian must, of course, give pursuit. * There was a time when I would’ve been terrified that legions of Scrits or Murks were waiting in the dark of the stairs that led up to my…

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We’ve been fortunate to have published both a previous work of fiction and some original fine art by Dory Fiamingo in the past. The woman is a creative maelstrom, and has finished another novel, Requiem for a Caged Bird. It’s a great read, it really is. We hope you get to read it in its entirety in the very near future (as we have), but for now we’re presenting a special Three Days of Dory excerpt, yes, you guessed right, for the next three days! Here is the first of three short tastes from this wonderful work of a contemporary fantasy fiction. Sebastian (“Bastian”) is an almost-immortal private eye able to leap from one world to another. Maggie, the love of his life, had walked out on him thirty years earlier. She shows up at his cosmic bookstore,…

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FRACTURED   The snow maids among us are idle angels too terrified to plumb the icy depths of murderous woe. Their eyes are thick with wax, smiles startled artifice, words unintelligible skeletons. Lovers cannot repair the distance; they are but shadows on the lawn, roosters who savage along. I shall be well again a hollow phrase they repeat in therapy where they dream someday it will ring sapphire true. Until then they lie in bleached valleys of waste and shame, fractured mirrors, aborted stars. * * * Lorie Adair is the recipient of several Norman Mailer Scholarships and Arizona Commission on the Arts Creative Writing fellowships. Spider Woman’s Loom was a finalist for the Southwest Writers Award and a semi-finalist for the Dana Award. She has written for NPR affiliate, KJZZ, and her fiction and…

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In Love with a Ghost It was a silent slipping away. They hadn’t just grown apart. That would make it seem like they could grow together if they had the motivation, but they had no compelling incentive to move together, or move on for that matter. They would rather be unhappy together than alone. It had been 15 years, after all. They became roommates who shared the same bed, mailing address, and monthly Sunday romp. She didn’t talk to her friends about her loveless marriage over coffee or her profound loneliness over lunch. Jesus, just finish already. I faked it ten minutes ago. I even finished my shopping list. Maybe you should lay off the pork rinds for a while. You shouldn’t have to work this hard. Do you have to pant and groan in…

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Thinking About Macaws The first time I rode in John’s brown minivan was on an afternoon in late August during our freshman year of college. There was a coffee-flavored e-cigarette in the cup holder between the driver’s seat and shotgun. I hardly noticed it at first, since I was too intent on listening to The Smiths, our favorite band. As soon as I got in the car, I took John’s CD case out of his glove compartment and started flipping through it. “Put in Louder Than Bombs,” John said. “It’s their best album.” I did. After “Is It Really So Strange?” started playing, I noticed the e-cigarette for the first time and asked John what it was. He explained, then offered me some. When I refused, John picked it up and began inhaling deeply. My…

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