December 4, 2019

New England Writers & Book Enthusiasts, Join Us!

Calling all New England writers and book enthusiasts! This Saturday, December 7th, the Association of Rhode Island Authors is holding its annual writer’s conference: the Rhode Island Author Expo. This will be the third year the Fictional Café will be attending the ARIA Expo. Stop by our table and chat with Jack, Mike and Honorah. Tell us about your creative work, your book interests or your favorite coffee brews. We always love meeting our members in person! You can enter to win one of our giveaways while you’re there. We’ll even have copies of our hot-off-the-presses Anthology for sale. At this all-day event, you’ll find writing workshops, tables with local authors and resource groups for writers. Come talk shop with other writers, get tips on crafting engaging dialogue or simply pick up a few holiday…

Continue reading →

December 3, 2019

“Typhoon Season,” A Short Story by Michael Colbert

Posted by Mike Rochester in Member Writing & Art, Writing

Logan followed Natsumi to Japan and he was beginning to wonder why. Yesterday he wondered why when he drank bad coffee from 7-Eleven but was desperate for an iced latte. Today he wondered why when he tried to buy stamps at the post office to send his seventeen-year-old sister a birthday card. “Kitty,” he said. “America made kitty.” Natsumi had told him what to say as she ran out the door of her mother’s house to buy more medicine. Her mother was sick. Badly sick. With what, Logan didn’t know. “Logan, I need to go home to Japan,” she’d said. In bed, her back was to him. He stroked her smooth shoulders, outlining the Astoria house he saw through the window. “My mom is sick.” They were coming up on the end of their lease. Their first apartment together. They met in college, Wesleyan. He was studying…

Continue reading →

November 30, 2019

“Out of Time,” Powerful Flash Fiction by Lucy Zhang

Posted by Mike Rochester in Member Writing & Art, Writing

A ticking time bomb. Every tick a precious second lost–not preserved in Snapchat or Instagram–the memory of it cached in a few brain cells before a new memory purged space for itself. Ellen, twenty-nine years old and ticking, kept a bright pink box, the First Response Rapid Results pregnancy test, in a cabinet behind the bathroom mirror. She already wasted one test on a false-alarm missed period. After peeing on the tip, feeling the warmth of a droplet of urine on her finger, she had stood watching the test for ten minutes while her husband, Wes, stood outside the locked door to the bathroom. No pink. Safe. Or not safe, she supposed. She and Wes had been trying for children for a few months now. You’re in the prime of fertility in your twenties, Ellen’s mother had…

Continue reading →

November 27, 2019

Introducing the Poetry of Jessica Lovett

Posted by Mike Rochester in Member Writing & Art, Writing

STRING OF LIGHTS Our hands go like this they go up I’m so proud of us all of this us, and the things that kept falling out, the sharp hooks of twisted girls’ mouths are lights on a string they’re just lights on a string. I guess it’s probably spring but I’d find that out at your house look at you, with all your time SEEING THINGS FOR WHAT THEY ARE On the edge of a bench the sun mutters a breeze look at the trees; look at guy in red hat and capris my body’s a cylinder placed on top of a moving submarine, this you’re better to believe performative pigeons and their soliloquies you could have me, here, in a lot more ways than one …

Continue reading →

November 25, 2019

“Thistled Spring,” by David Norwood

Posted by Mike Rochester in Member Writing & Art, Writing

Robin perched in her tree and frantically counted the eggs in her nest. She feared she had taken too long hunting for worms which in turn gave other creatures ample time to steal her eggs. But, it was just too damn hard to find any food. The ground was as hard as a brick and the grass as thick as a jungle. Why couldn’t it rain just a little to help loosen the soil, or why couldn’t someone cut the grass and drive those worms out of the ground for her, she thought. Was a little help too much to ask for? But, all four eggs were still nestled together just as she had left them, and her worry began to ease. She then scanned her immediate surroundings for any signs of intrusion. Claw marks? Chipped bark? Broken limbs? Mangled nest? Had some miscreant been lurking while she was away, it would most likely return later that night. But,…

Continue reading →

November 23, 2019

“Oblivity,” The Saturday Night Podcast

Posted by Jack B. Rochester in Audio Arts, Podcasts

We’re excited to bring you a top-notch podcasting team from the British Isles in performance here at the Cafe. They’re called Oblivity, and that’s the eponymous title of their production as well. “Oblivity” is about a disgraced war hero who’s posted to the remote ice plains of Pluto (think banned, punished, relegated, etc.) It’s her toughest mission yet: to oversee a small, dysfunctional research team. Then it starts to get humorous. Cate Nunn plays Commander Falconer, and Hannah Wilmshurst is First Officer Christy. Hey, more fun, a female crew! What? Oh, yeah, sorry! Also starring Max Windich as Officer Burney and Ash Hunt as Officer Lowell. Here they all are. Tonight, please listen to the trailer and the first two episodes of Season One. If you like what you hear, you can slide over to…

Continue reading →

November 22, 2019

The Heartfelt Poetry of Ana M. Fores Tamayo

Posted by Mike Rochester in Member Writing & Art, Writing

Home, Through the Muted Screen Home? My black bear dog sleeping all day long Nestled in a corner of the kitchen, yellow Against the green leaves of potted plants, Overgrown as window shades To hide the heat of summer Or glare of winter’s day. Or is home a memory of days With siblings running on the beach of waterfronts, On boardwalks laughing, eating cotton candy, Talking of our daily conquests? Heat radiates through windows, Warmth fills the sun drained dusty day. The laughter of my daughter’s eyes glitters miles away through computer graphics. Glaring pictograms, even as warm and fuzzy rays Wrestle my despondent doldrums, tussling the muted screen that wrangles fuddled images. Yet suddenly, her singsong voice, her vale, Her voluptuous vapor bantering force me to forget my mundane life, and she comes alive, splendor in that little box, electronics transforming me into completion at the sound and chatter of her song. In answer to your Battle Lines As I read your battle lines, I am consumed by the…

Continue reading →

November 20, 2019

“Thank God I Drove Past You Today,” by Mário Santos

Posted by Mike Rochester in Member Writing & Art, Writing

I drove past you today. You were chatting with some friend of ours, waiting for the bus. I saw you briefly through the window of my car but, at that exact moment, I stepped harder on the gas. I saw your image, but it was just for a second. Then you vanished. You know what? Thank God I drove past you fast. I had to tell you this. Today, I couldn’t be in your world. I’m dead tired. I’ve a deadline at work to meet in four days. Last minute problems as usual. Meetings in a row. The pressure from customers, my first manager, my second manager – that shit is full of managers – my co-workers. Not today. I’m not capable of hearing your endless complaints, your criticism about everything, your grievances. Not today. I don’t want to hear you talking about your…

Continue reading →

November 18, 2019

The Joyous Poetry of Kufre-Udeme Thompson

Posted by Mike Rochester in Member Writing & Art, Writing

I Feel Like Dancing I woke up this morning–– when the night was making love with the day: Mbodibo all over my body! when the sun was about to be conceived; I felt my spirit yearning; my pulses ticking, for a thing I fought in vain to understand. Then just when the tiny sweet voices of birds–– Ebomo nkuku, kuku! began to escape the thick bushes behind my hut, resounding new songs of joy and laughter–– my feelings became clear as the mirror; I understand now my long deepest yearning: I really, really feel like dancing! The urge far surpasses the desire for a woman, but `tis with a woman I want to dance–– Nka iferi, to be precise: the smartest and darkest of all, who’ll twist to my desired feat. I swear, I feel like dancing! Play me the evil drum made with human flesh–– the flesh of an old woman will give a spirited rhythm; Ntap nkanam, ntap nkanam nkanam. Let Anansa sing me the tune–– Anansa, the water goddess of the Ifa Ibom nation. I want to dance ekombi; Oh, ekombi itiad ntokon! Let me return to the past. Oyebap, oyebap Bokondo! I want to sway with the ancient; Fetch me my wrapper! Ekombi is…

Continue reading →

November 9, 2019

The Contemplations of Kathryn V. Jacopi

Posted by Jack B. Rochester in Member Writing & Art, Writing

One of Us A sucker-punch thought, we will end. The assault turns into a cold sweat from the contours of my couch. One day we might fight over the over-due mortgage, you promised to pay. The dent in the new hallway’s paint, I never denied. Who keeps the dog when we sell the house? We fought the morning a bus crashed into the glass store. The highway exit was blocked and first responders’ lights spun. I read on my phone that no one’s hurt and we held hands the drive home. What if we’d decided to replace the glass in the tv stand an hour earlier. The first time I wrote this you sat next to me on the couch. TV commentaries must-know insight, scores on your phone, notes for a fantasy, but you…

Continue reading →