All posts in Writing

February 26, 2023

“His Name’s Not Ben”

A Mystery by Paul Perilli It often feels like we’re living in an age of identity obfuscation. People choose alias, noms de plume, stage names, nicknames . . . sometimes it must be hard to remember exactly who you are. Or, in the case of Ben, whom this story is about, how you ever got yourself into such a mess that you had to change your name and . . .. But let’s let author Paul Perilli open the creaking door to tell us Ben’s story. ** THE STREETS OF NEW YORK CHANGE as often as the seasons. Each year businesses come and go. For the most part their opening and closing have little effect on me. The Mexican restaurant on Manhattan Ave. I ordered from once or twice a year is now an empty…

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February 26, 2023

“Chocolates From Majorca” By Ewa Mazierska

Posted by Jack B. Rochester in Writing

The British, for as long as anyone cares to remember, have loved vacationing on the island of Majorca, one of four Spanish isles in the Mediterranean Sea. The history of making marvelous chocolates in Spain dates back to the days of Christopher Columbus. Today’s story is about thoughtfulness, and perhaps an absence thereof . . . (Featured Image courtesy of Spanish Abores.com) ** It took Robert almost five hours to travel from his house on the outskirts of Dunfermline to his old house in Lancashire. By the time he reached the house, he was exhausted and in a bad mood, not least because his favourite restaurant, where he used to have brunch, was closed due to a broken pipe. He felt that Justine, his ex-wife, would immediately sense his bad mood and react with her…

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February 17, 2023

Max Orkis’s Stunning Poetic Visions

Posted by Jack B. Rochester in Writing

Eight poems you won’t soon forget. Poems you’ll want to read again and again. Each reading reveals new layers, depths, insights, poetic visions, and an overwhelming desire to understand the heart and the mind of a true poet. Missing Fold, collapse, telescope. How piercing glows a ray — if The star rolls round once every so many Forevers while night falls daily? So cold to hope, In an ice age, for global warming As streams  Grow stiff, Like a bay leaf, Harden, Fossilize, like a trope, Like the uncanny Flower that buds more  Slowly than  Death blooms — so, grow wild, bow, garden. How real are dreams If even after brainstorming One can hardly recall one or  Forget disbelief Again? ~ ~ Divine Dream I often wonder why my dreams so seldom Remember me in…

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February 14, 2023

“Kaleidoscope: Dark Tales” by Derrick R. Lafayette

Posted by Jack B. Rochester in Book Reviews, Writing

Just Published: A Provocative Short Story Collection by Our Own Writer-in-Residence It’s Valentine’s Day and Publication Day for Kaleidoscope: Dark Tales, Derrick R. Lafayette’s newest book. AND we’re excited to anounce Kaleidoscope as our first Fictional Café Press book of 2023. Derrick is a prolific writer who was our Fiction Writer-in-Residence for 2021-2022. He’s had several works published here at the Café, which you can read here. (Several are included in his collection but others are exclusive FC publications.) As the French author Marcel Proust once remarked, the mind evokes endlessly changing thought patterns, much like a kaleidoscope. And so reading Derrick R. Lafayette’s Kaleidoscope: Dark Tales, a genuinely extraordinary collection of five short stories and a novella, is like seeing the world anew through bits of colored glass. Here’s a preview. What if . ….

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February 10, 2023

“Café Chimera”

Posted by Jack B. Rochester in Writing

A Short Story by Bill Suter Fictional Café may be getting upstaged by the goings-on at Café Chimera, and that’s a good thing. Calvin yawned, barely functional, as the road crew shuffled into the cafe before their morning rounds. He needed a path back to the land of the living, but this muddy cup of coffee wasn’t helping matters. “Too strong?” the server asked. “Chewy, but it will do.” “I’m sorry. I’m new here.” “Yeah,” he forced a smile, “I can tell.” “I could always cast a spell over it,” she suggested. “I’m better at that.” “Beer flavored?” He forced another smile in spite of himself. “Elderberry,” she said brightly. “It’s already in the syrup on your pancakes. I just need to activate it.” She gently waved a hand over his plate and stepped back…

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February 6, 2023

Deux Poèmes from Deux Poets

Posted by Jack B. Rochester in Writing

Today, Fictional Café introduces two fine poems from two fine American poets in our virtual magazine. Please let us know what you think of their work in the Comments section at the end of this post. Frank De Canio Language Primer I might as well become a child again, since my substantial English goes as far as what my senorita comprehends. As such, my native tongue becomes a bar against pronounced exchanges with my friend. She understands enough of what I say to stumble through the meaning I intend, but not enough for me to get my way. Yet, speaking fluent Spanish to her peers, she leaves me feeling witless in my age, while she with rapid fluency endears herself to those in the proficient stage of verbal mastery. And I must wait on textbook…

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February 1, 2023

Robert Lunday’s Poetic Moments

Posted by Jack B. Rochester in Writing

Little Man I need what I earn and could use a little more. But the little man in me needs none of it. He squats like an undiscovered arthropod and bottom-feeds on my mutterings. He sits in the position known as Lotus with his knees at forty-five degrees. The supposed virtues are his zodiac and if he’s naked you try not to notice. Fragment Please believe in me and do not doubt what I say. This foaming mouth is Aphrodite but the hands are Hephaestus clawing the air as he falls through the heavens in dismay. You break my heart but I take the pieces and make from each a thousand more. Gravel Gravel was on the menu. It was the thing you weren’t supposed to eat. It was there to make everything else look…

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January 29, 2023

“Man Does Not Live By Words Alone”

Posted by Jack B. Rochester in Writing

Poetry by Dana Yost Rainbow Through the window the sun blew into a glass of white wine then refracted into a rainbow upon the skin of lemon-pepper chicken as we talked about Nazi death camps and soldiers killed by sniper fire in Vietnam. A teacher dead in the recent derecho. It was such a peaceful setting for death, wasn’t it? The seven of us around the table and one finally mentioned amnesty for draft-dodgers, and no one went berserk, no one even disagreed. We shook our heads at the insanity of war, at the cruelty of death, and my classmate posted photos on Facebook of herself in hospice, ready to die from cancer. “I’ll be here for the end,” she said from her living room couch, under a blanket. I looked for a rainbow but…

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January 20, 2023

“Paper Dolls” by Rachel Gonzalez

Posted by Jack B. Rochester in Writing

A Short Story by Our New Writer in Residence He has a collection of paper dolls and a workshop dedicated to them. It’s a perfectly maintained and organized room filled with tools of his trade. Xacto knives and self-healing mats, tacky spray for stubborn pages, creasing tools for the ideal line. There are no unruly folds or crinkled edges in his workshop. He’s a sentimental man. His favorite paper dolls live in a box on the highest shelf. Sometimes he pulls them out to admire them, or to take inspiration for his newest project. His process is very thorough: First comes the raw material. He can spot the potential of a page from a mile away. Be it the pattern or the texture or the pliability, he knows a good page when he gets his…

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December 15, 2022

“Mother,” Poetry by Bharti Bansal

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

Mother Sometimes I look at the regrets of my mother trailing along the corners of her eyes As she wonders about her place in the world too often There is no secret to motherhood, I suppose Just a constant feeling of doing it wrong My father consoles her, calls her beloved A sincere way of reminding her of their own vows Yet when she wakes up at night, feeling the clutches of past on her throat, she simply lets him sleep without saying a single word I believe it is when a relationship turns into partnership as time moves along the edges of their bodies, Sometimes becoming a game, as they team up together, shake hands, pat each other’s back, constantly reminding themselves about the love that blossomed years ago This is how I see…

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