Up There this one goes out to anyone that’s ever made me feel I wasn’t enough or felt they were too good & drifted away I remember we fucked in the auditorium your idea & how carnal & playful you were wore a skirt and it hurt but I’ll admit I wasn’t ready here’s to the loves that didn’t last couldn’t last it’s all in the past now but I still daydream time to time Acan Glaske big border you know what that means government shutdowns partisan bickering sniveling banter back and forth we go the first settlers built walls around their encampments wanted to keep the threats out the Lakota the Apache the Comanche they lived on the open range in communion with nature …
Poetry and Prose to Honor Juneteenth
We at The Fictional Cafe are shocked, dismayed and angered by American policemen gunning down American men of color. We assume you feel similarly. Times of great stress, like the COVID-19 pandemic, bring out both the best and the worst in people. It is a time in which we must be patient, calm, understanding, even forgiving, even while we protest for change. We have no way of knowing what strife and pain, or growth and joy, await us in the endless days of this pandemic. All we have is today to be the very best humans we can possibly be, and that today, today, is Juneteenth when the world bows its head to remember the end of slavery in America, circa 1865. Of course, we know it wasn’t the end and that racism still runs…
“Ave Maria on the Moon,” by Frank Diamond
Desperation birthed the plan, if you want to call it a birth, and if you want to call it a plan. NASA threw us at the Moon; a Hail Mary pass for world peace, of all clichés. Look how that turned out. I, Chuck Dunn, now sit at the entrance to the cave-complex at the base of the Marius Hills, behind the screen—or the veil, as we on the mission nicknamed it. The Moonscape stretches before me like an addict’s vision of the Arizona desert: rock formations back-lean as the dinosaurs might have while gazing at the arrival of their extinction event. Further beyond, the cloaked range dead-stops at the horizon. The Earth hovers between two cupped peaks; a raised blue Communion host. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death,…
“You vs. the Apocalypse,” by Ayman Elsayed
TITLE: You vs. The Apocalypse GENRE: Legal, Simulation, Strategy DEVELOPER: COVID-19 FRANCHISE: Pandemic Interactive PUBLISHER: Ayman Elsayed RELEASE DATE: March 15, 2020 The handling of the end of the world is on trial. Your only mission is to survive. Overcome struggles such as mental health, physical isolation and deteriorating resources by interacting with technology. Engage with others. Find a hobby. Judge your community. Protect yourself from yourself. Single-player Achievements Full Remote Compatibility RECENT REVIEWS: Very Negative. 99.9% of the 7,729,536,211 user reviews in the last 30 days are negative. Popular user-defined tags for this product: Closed World, Survival Horror, RPG, Retro, Sandbox, Social Distancing, Crafting, Souls-like —————————————————————————————————————– _________ / ======= \ / __________\ | ___________ | | | | | | | START | | …
Sherlock Holmes Read by Greg Wagland
Sherlock Holmes is a character that has intrigued and attracted the masses since Sir Arthur Conan Doyle first published A Study in Scarlet in 1887. Since then, it has been adapted for radio, stage and television, the story of London’s only consulting detective and his steadfast and loyal partner, Dr. Watson, accumulating more and more fans with every generation. Now with all those books, TV shows, cassette tapes, operettas, parodies, games, movies, and comics of the world’s most iconic mystery duo, that should be enough material for most Sherlockian fanatics, right? Well, let me add one more option to the pile. For the traditional, classic lover, here is Sherlock Holmes read by Greg Wagland of Magpie Audio, sharing all your favorite stories on YouTube for free!! “The Copper Beeches” on YouTube. “The Yellow Face” on…
“Silenced,” The Poetry of Joan McNerney
Silenced What is never spoken of and pushed down becomes mold crawling over hearts. Strangling our voices, it scuttles through corridors, tunneling, warping each day. My body . . . this swollen thing carried by legs too thin and crippled to uphold it. Pushed down, tightly clamped in now full of pain, gasping for each breath. Smothered, silenced. street corners enveloped in exhaust fumes slate-like formations wait for light to change her carbon dress his face of ashes crushed within this granite body we eat grey food pulling empty air through narrow passageway to ink stain train smudged along blurred landscape of city inside myself searching a designer one clear line of perspective which distinguishes buildings from streets & points to where the synthetic sky…
“The Alarming Misadventures of Henry’s Continuing E.D.,” by Len Messineo
“Have you no sense of humor?” Sylvia says. Earlier in the evening, she had jokingly referred to Henry—who suffers from male-pattern baldness—as “Cue Ball” in front of their friends at the Eagle Cove Yachting Club. Now Henry is sulking. He might have been a good sport about it, but Henry, an engineer having a keen intelligence for machines, has none for humans, especially Silvia. He reasons, falsely, that if only he could grow hair, he would escape his wife’s withering remarks. So, Henry sees his family doctor. The doctor writes him a prescription for Propecia. By now we’ve all seen the ads on television for the newly FDA-approved medication. A soft lulling music plays while a voice-over—as consoling as a funeral counselor—reads a list of possible contraindications: drowsiness, burning, tingling sensations, difficult bowel movements, seizures, and on and on with the tag…
“The Outing,” A Short Story by Lee Marc Stein
They found his body at 5:00 am at the bottom of the stairs leading down from the sports deck to the pool. Claire Warner hears the announcement at 8:00 in her stateroom as she is curling her hair. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain. As some of you may already know, the body of our distinguished guest lecturer, Francesco Carlucci, was found this morning by our First Officer Paul Cornelius. We are guessing that Professor Carlucci missed a step, fell down the flight and hit his head. When we reach port in 30 minutes, an official Medical Examiner will come onboard to determine the actual cause of death. We promise to keep you informed.” Her husband was doing laps around the sports deck now. With the iPod blasting in his ear, he probably didn’t…
Ben Gencarelle: Art’s Irrepressible Strangeness
Artist’s Statement: “We are all strangers in a strange land, longing for home, but not quite knowing what or where home is. We glimpse it sometimes in our dreams, or as we turn a corner, and suddenly there is a strange, sweet familiarity that vanishes almost as soon as it comes.”― Madeleine L’Engle In the wrong place, in the wrong time, in the wrong job. Maybe misunderstood, maybe deluded, maybe both. Afraid. Too raw, too ugly, too real. Too much. Maybe you’re an immigrant. Maybe you’re neurodiverse. Maybe you’re both. Whatever you are or are not, the message is clear: you don’t belong here. So it starts. Masking. Crumpling up corners and sanding off edges. Tearing off the “extra” and pasting the scraps over the transparent places. Sometimes it helps. Sometimes you can fool them,…
“Mutt and Jeff,” A Short Story by Robert Pope
Friends who knew us back in the day called us Mutt and Jeff. We had buddy tattoos on our biceps, cartoon characters: Jeff tall in an orange striped suit and fedora, with a mustache like mine, Mutt short, with mutton chops, dark suit and top hat. I never told Tina, my second wife, why I had the tattoo because I got into bad habits with Mick a year into my first marriage. I wanted him nowhere near me and Tina, until the bad times hit. We had funny hours, Tina and I. She sold real estate, I worked from home, free-lancing web sites, buying and selling, investing. We made decent money, unpredictable, sure, but we talked about having a kid. That dropped off when things cooled in the bedroom. One Saturday, I drove by an open house to say hello when I saw her on the porch, talking with a younger guy in dark slacks, blue shirt. He had dark hair, styled, real regular white teeth. I put it out of my mind overnight. We had a nice dinner, and off she went…