All posts in Writing

June 18, 2023

19 June, 2023

Posted by Jack B. Rochester in Guest Posts, Writing

Two Works for Juneteenth by Cori Sims I am . . . More like an eclipsed sun, I am Shade under a tree The stout beer in your gullet A mouth of a cave The skin of the polar bear I am Ever present, inescapable Behind your eyes I began in your mother’s womb And will swallow you with delight In your end No thing is beyond my reach Above the clouds and stars Or deep in the cracks of the mind I hold no fear Of what I am All I must do is Be ** Know Thyself to be Seen A conversation last week with a dear friend revealed a door, a chance to expand a philosophical concept and apply it to Juneteenth, the recently nationalized commemoration of the militia event that drove…

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June 5, 2023

Impact! A Sci-Fi Trilogy by C.K. Westbrook

Posted by Jack B. Rochester in Writing

We continue “The Impact Series” Trilogy with volume 2, “The Collision” We recently attended a book fair where we met the author, C.K. Westbrook, and were intrigued by “The Impact Series,” a science fiction trilogy: The Shooting, The Collision, and The Judgment. In each volume the story, told a day at a time, is that of Kate Stellute, who works for the United States Space Force in the near future and while out for a run is abducted by an alien. She becomes its media connection to the people of earth, who are warned they must change their ways or be obliterated. As the author writes: As the world continues to reel from the shooting, Kate must race to save humanity from more horrific violence. After escaping an angry, dangerous mob, Kate Stellute and her neighbor…

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May 29, 2023

Impact! A Sci-Fi Trilogy by C.K. Westbrook

Posted by Jack B. Rochester in Writing

We recently attended a book fair where we met the author, C.K. Westbrook, and were intrigued by “The Impact Series,” a science fiction trilogy: The Shooting, The Collision, and The Judgment. In each volume the story, told a day at a time, is that of Kate Stellute, who works for the United States Space Force in the near future and while out for a run is abducted by an alien. She becomes its media connection to the people of earth, who are warned they must change their ways or be obliterated. As the author writes: Life will never be the same for Kate. After almost every gun owner worldwide turns their weapon on themselves in a terrifying fifteen-minute window, Kate Stellute, like the rest of the population, searches for answers. The mass shooting is enormous…

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May 25, 2023

“The Worrymajig,” by Rhea Thomas

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

When Amy tripped on her way out of the office parking garage and ended up sprawled on the sidewalk, a noise came from her mouth that was a cross between a gasp, a screech and a squawking chicken. In addition to skinning her knees, she broke the heel on one of her new, cute winter boots. Luckily, she had some back-up tennis shoes in her desk due to some client freebies and no one would have noticed her cute boots anyway, because she would be stuck at her desk all day with the mountain of work she needed to complete. Despite this being only a few weeks into January, Amy wasn’t feeling very hopeful this year would be any different from the last. Everyone was so excited about “the new year, the new you,” and…

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May 23, 2023

“Can We Ever Atone?” by Thom Wainwright

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

It’s a memory so dark and shameful that words almost fail me. It’s been hidden away for some five decades now. The details of the incident now present as both hallucinogenic and mundane. At times, it banishes me to that terrible place where no one would ever dare to come find me. We were on a dusty red road just outside of Cu Chi. Stevens and I were setting up a broadcasting post on this well-traveled section of Highway 13, which links the City of Tunnels with the capital city of Saigon. It was well known that the Viet Cong frequented this stretch, usually under cover of darkness, to brazenly plant land mines in the clay and stone of the road bed. Mamma-san and baby-san would be posted along the roadway during daylight hours, purportedly…

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May 17, 2023

“Burial,” A Short Story by Peter Dellolio

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

Leaves and twigs scattered suddenly, as if the last, hurried pat of her seven-year-old palm, hitting the flattened surface of moist earth that moments ago revealed a fourth hole, was somehow acknowledged by the secret watchfulness of nature, and the little whisking breezes, surrounding her finished labors, had somehow bestowed their blessing upon her task. She had left the house as surreptitiously as her tiny form and sincere energy would allow, running down the old boards, almost jumping across the eighteenth-century backdoor steps of the farmhouse, charging into the woods like an infantryman rushing into battle, head held high with quiet dignity and deadly purpose, without even an atom of fear, soul impervious to danger, defying threats to life and limb, lying just ahead in the enemy’s midst. She felt that if the subjects of her…

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May 15, 2023

“Wheels of the Bus,” by Bethany Reid

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

When the brakes failed, Claire did not panic. Later, describing the accident—which she was asked to do an ungodly number of times—she insisted on her level-headed, calm reaction. Cool under fire, grace under pressure, all that crap. No panic. She did everything as she had been taught in bus-driver school. She pumped the brake pedal all the way down, twice, three times. She shifted into third and then into second and got ready to shift further down. All the while muttering under her breath, first, reverse, like a prayer. Or a curse. But then the idiot motorcyclist weaved into the HOV lane, right in front of the bus, not signaling, just darting from between rows of moving cars, hugely illegal. And at the same instant traffic swelled and slowed. With working brakes, it wouldn’t have…

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May 11, 2023

“The Greatest of These,” by Kathie Giorgio

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

Faith wished she could pray, and then wondered if, by wishing, she was already praying. What was the difference between lighting birthday cake candles and lighting a votive in a church? With one, she closed her eyes and wished. With the other, she closed her eyes and prayed. Faith thought of all the years she tried to earn a wish by blowing out her birthday candles with one big gust, and all the Sundays she knelt in her space in the pew, she at the end, her parents at the aisle, and her siblings in between. They folded their hands in prayer. It was all about asking for something, Faith decided, and then believing she was going to get it. With one, she asked God; with the other, she asked the universe or the air…

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May 9, 2023

Col. Jon D. Marsh — Poetry and Prose

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

“Pagan” THEY made this so. It was so even before the Others came. Too many moons ago to consider. Even before the Fathers of the Father’s Fathers, it was so. But that does not matter. Before the Others came They called Us Mana-Hoka. The Others called Us Machu Grande, and They were forced to use the Other’s words. The Others are gone now. They gave the Others to their Gods to appease them. Now We are Mana-Hoka once more. But that does not matter, either. At those times when They became of many, the Gods would often grow angry and send a curse of hunger or sickness, so They learned to appease the Gods, as They would on a night when a complete moon fills the jungle with soft light. Just as They had many…

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April 27, 2023

Our National Poetry Month Finale: Vera West

Posted by Jack B. Rochester in Writing

Please welcome Vera West, The Fictional Cafe’s Poet in Residence, who shares her thoughts about our National Poetry Month celebration: chickadee I’m not always angry but I am mostly melancholy, thinking about those little potholes of memories riddling a twisting road of disappointment; these memories jar me: pancakes, carnivals, front yard barbecues, black fridays and pastel pink egg hunts, nicknames no one else called me; these memories always jarred me, they’re so different than the standard of both back then and now. ** thinking of you Things you did right: encourage me to be authentic, drive me around town, instill independence, and push high expectations. [I want to be somewhere in the middle, between the good and the bad, between emotion and logic, but I’m stuck in extremes. either I miss you terribly or hate you…

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