All posts in Writing

September 15, 2020

“On Waking Up and Strong Desires,” by Kelly Burke

It is Saturday morning. I woke up with a strong desire to get a haircut. On my laptop I look up local salons to read reviews and compare ratings. I find one that looks promising. It has 4.9 stars and a recent client named Beatrice wrote that the stylists are warm and helpful people. Everything on the website is written in a romantic cursive font like a wedding invitation. I book an appointment for noon. I type out my name, email address, and phone number. Before submitting the form, it asks me to select the length of my hair, long or short. There is no option for medium or other. It makes me wince a bit. Then I begin contemplating the most accurate way to describe the length of my hair. I think about how…

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September 13, 2020

“Leap of Faith” — An Ekphrasis Poem by Mark Blickley

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

Image by Mark Blickley Leap of Faith I’m a dead frog and I don’t say this with any pity or understanding or shame, it’s just an observation that people seem to like us, like us a bit too much because they like to push hooks through our jaws and cast us out to sea, as well as amputate us for fine dining and draw us as a cartoon shuffling cigar smoking smart ass, and they like to blame us when they choke on the phlegm in their throats, and they swear that some of us give them hideous skin infections while the evil ones enjoy tossing us into their steamy potions as the younger ones imitate us with a game of leaps and crashes, perhaps because we abandon our young and we larger ones like to…

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September 8, 2020

“Danger in Plain Sight,” a Novel by Burt Weissbourd

Posted by Jack B. Rochester in Writing

Editor’s Note: We’re pleased to be publishing an excerpt from Burt Weissbourd’s fifth novel here at the Café. Burt is a strong writer with a background in Hollywood movies, and it shows in Danger in Plain Sight. It’s tough, it’s suspenseful and it has strong forward movement like a good Mickey Spillane novel. This is Burt’s first Callie James thriller, which climbs aboard the Weissbourd novel train behind three Corey Logan works and one non-serial novel set in Wyoming’s Yellowstone Park. In this opening scene, we find Callie James working in her restaurant when her ex-husband Daniel shows up unexpectedly. If you like Danger in Plain Sight, you’ll probably be clicking away to get some more on Amazon. The following excerpt is drawn from the first two chapters, so let’s get to it! Chapter One…

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September 6, 2020

“Yodeling in the City” A Short Story by Marc Littman

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

“No more yodeling, John, I can’t stand it!” Joan clutched her ears like she was clinging to a stout tree in a hurricane. I peered at my wife’s pained visage, a face that after 40 years I no longer tried to spare any torment, and shrugged. “Maybe I’m calling out to you, if only you could hear.” “Like I’m a fat cow in the Alps and you’re a shepherd?!” Joan cried. “We live in New York, John. People don’t yodel in the city.” Peering through our expansive windows at a Matterhorn of concrete, I started to warble but stifled the urge. Taking a different tack, I pivoted to confront Joan. “Elmer does.” “Elmer’s a peasant, he belongs in the Alps. He and Julie Andrews can sing their hearts out!” Joan volleyed back. I took a hit but stood my ground. “Yodeling is more than singing, Joan. The subtle pitches and measured breathing, it calms me, and it reminds me of our younger days. Remember when we used to…

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August 24, 2020

“The Beholder,” A Short Story by Fiama Mastrangelo

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

You blink your eyes open and stretch your arms above your head. You’re wearing an extra-large cotton t-shirt this morning—one that you got for free in your freshman year and never threw out. Your dark brown hair is splayed out on the pillowcase and is exceptionally messy. I wonder if you were feeling lazy or if you just didn’t care what I would think when you decided on this look last night. We can work on that. I watch you get up and move into the bathroom. I can hear you washing your face, brushing your teeth. You turn on the shower and the noise of running water fills the room. No steam, it’s cold water. Hot water will age you, remember? I wouldn’t like that at all. I told you that your legs felt prickly last night. I wonder if you remember that this morning, while you…

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August 19, 2020

“Writing the Song,” A Short Story by Carole Langille

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

I met Van and another man at a party and though I was attracted to the other guy, I called Van. That’s how I did things in those days. I wrote lyrics, Van told me he wrote melodies, so when I suggested we get together and go over some material, Van invited me to his small duplex on the west side of Manhattan where he had his piano. That first day, sitting on his couch, watching this tall guy with broad shoulders and curly brown hair play such wonderful melodies, I was happy. He looked like a cowboy, tall and lean, with his checked shirt and leather vest, his dark moustache, but an intellectual cowboy, his green eyes very alive. Years later, when I saw a film with Samuel L. Jackson, I thought they looked…

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August 17, 2020

“The Leopard’s Good Idea,” Poetry by Mark A. Murphy

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

The Leopard’s Good Idea or Costume Change The pen is mightier than the sword. Behold The arch-enchanters wand! – itself a nothing! – Edward Bulwer-Lytton 1 One day the crafty leopard hit upon the neat idea to turn out his old wardrobe in favour of a whole new look. Out went last season’s winter warmers as if a change of pelt might bring about a change in personality. Nonetheless, the inclination to swindle outweighs any kindness. So, the cheating and subterfuge runs its course, until the cheat and the cheated part company in the face of wild promises and denials. 2 Now we journey to the end of time to ascertain whether the pen really is mightier than the sword, only to find what we always suspected. …

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August 11, 2020

“Pool Boy,” A Short Story by John Beyer

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

The concept did not come as a lightning bolt out of the sky, striking my cranium instantly. But more like a slow buildup of storm clouds on the horizon. The ones that leave a person wondering if inclement weather was in fact on the way or would fizzle into nothingness. Weather is like that sometimes, much like thoughts, ideas, or dreams. Nothing to do with reality at the moment but perhaps in the future that reality would truly become real. That was how it was with the epiphany I could make a lot more money if I turned my career into something deeper if not more sinister. I grew up poor, angry and disillusioned in Forest Park in Detroit. The small neighborhood bordering Wayne State University had high unemployment and those lucky enough to be working had some of…

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August 9, 2020

“Meteor Shower,” Poetry by Mark Hammerschick

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

Meteor Shower Canvas black the eternal oil spill galactic dark matter speckled waves of crystal diamond sky ruby, emerald, sapphire lightspeed silent night bright terminal velocity eyes focus straining in the dark time as seconds, minutes, eons stretch galaxies into small hands that even rain cannot feel for in feeling we begin to fall headlong into night riding the meteors of our past knowing the showers of our future will smother those small hands someday not even the rain has such small hands Smokestacks of oak, hickory and birch lurch in the balance of sleet and snow on a confused Sunday in early May as my woods fill up with snow. It’s a snowy evening tucked away on this Highland Park cul de sac hugging Lake Michigan’s shore as the gales of this Spring day recall the final…

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August 6, 2020

“Party Boy,” A Short Story by Lee Anderson

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

I’m alone at a charity event in Patricia Yeo’s new Midtown eatery. Shirtless, chiseled busboys and lanky, large-breasted servers run lightly about the restaurant, carrying trays the size of manhole covers. The place is gold-trimmed and supported by Roman columns but a terrible place to have a party. Not enough room. We’re ass-to-hip in here practically. I meet gazes with Celine about ten minutes after I arrive. She approaches me without hesitation. I actually don’t think she’s ever hesitated a day in her life. “Uh-oh,” she says. “Lazarus Fucking Cooper. Is that you?” “Last I checked.” “Well, there’s no telling what’s going to happen now.” “We’ll have to be careful.” “Yeah, you attract bad energy. I’m a lily caught in the rapids with you.” “I see you haven’t changed.” “Does anyone?” A hyper-paced metal song begins growling from heightened speakers,…

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