January 25, 2024

As I Make You

Posted by in Writing
As I Make You

A Flash Fiction by Matthew Bala Image Courtesy of Al Quino, unsplash.com Bulging my fingers into the spinning clay, I look into the rotating bottom and let my tears glisten there—the figure moves faster than my hands can shape, and I’m left with only a few touches to produce the right form.  The pad of my thumb grazes the orbiting ovoid, trimming up and at its waist into some obscene shape; surrendering a chuckle, I retreat my hands, looking at this earthly bong I’ve now made. The long snout stretches for air, its bottom rounded to the sides of the hog pan.  My palms now fondle the roundness of my creation, feeling the argil beard my cupped hands and cuticles of bending fingers. Deliberately, I close my two arms in on each other, shooting my…

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October 19, 2023

“Baby Rando,” A Short Story by Robert Pope

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“Baby Rando,” A Short Story by Robert Pope

Walt could not be more pleased with their baby boy, now they’d had him home a couple of weeks. With his fuzz of orange hair and sparkling green eyes, the child glowed. Rando laughed almost as soon as he came from the hospital. Ginger’s Dad called when he got back from The Islands. He could hardly believe it. He had given up hope of his only child making him a grandparent.   Rando came three weeks early, fully formed, Walt informed Ginger’s Dad. Would you believe it? A father at forty-two, after a double bypass hit him wham, sucker punch to the solar plexus. Ten days later he had this fine scar down his naked chest. They took the few chest hairs he had before surgery. Never grew back. He missed them. He had given each…

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March 26, 2023

“Sal the Barber” by Frank Diamond

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“Sal the Barber” by Frank Diamond

“That’s a common mistake, mi amigo,” Sal Gonzalez says. He stops clipping, looks into the barbershop mirror at Larry Shanks. Sal stands to the right and a bit behind Larry; it would be the blind side, if not for reflection. “That’s my first marriage. I married my friend. And we’re still friends.”  Larry rolls his neck, says: “One day you look up and you’re roomies. Sex? Maybe. Sometimes. Schedule it.”  “And couples need that passion,” Sal says, resuming the clip-clip. “I married three times. Third time’s the charm. With Rita 33 years. I am blessed. Without Rita, I’m dead.”  COVID-19 had almost killed Sal three months earlier. He’d been on a respirator—torture!—and had pneumonia. It took eleven weeks to recover and get back to work.  “All the nurses on every shift knew Rita.”  “How old…

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October 11, 2022

“The Anchored World”- An Excerpt

Posted by in Writing
“The Anchored World”- An Excerpt

Fictional Cafe is pleased to share with our readers an excerpt from a just-published, highly original new work by Jasmine Sawers. Please see our interview with the founders of Rose Metal Press, which follows the excerpt. ** The Weight of the Moon The moon fell from the sky last Tuesday. I rolled her into the shed and gave her some water. “Thank you,” she said. “Don’t you worry about it,” I said. I patted her sorest-looking crater. I got some lotion and rubbed it on. “Thank you,” she said. Everyone was so worried. “The tides,” they said. “The rotation of the earth on its axis,” they said. “The migration of the birds, the turning of the seasons, the visibility at nighttime. Where is the moon? The end is nigh. Judgment is coming. Repent.” They don’t…

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August 9, 2022

“The Guacamole Incident,” by William Torphy

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“The Guacamole Incident,” by William Torphy

Horace reaches for the party-sized plastic tub, hits it with his thumb and pushes it off the coffee table. The tub falls face-down, sending gobs of guacamole exploding across the new cream-colored Berber carpeting, instantly transforming its surface into an abstract painting of green clods and speckling red.   He slides off his lounge chair and kneels next to the goopy mess. Silvia will be home soon from her therapy appointment. There’s going to be hell to pay and he needs to think quickly. Grab something to sop up the carnage— a rag, a towel, a sponge. Maybe something like a trowel to first scoop up the worst of it. Armed with a spatula, he attempts to spoon up the chunky clumps but he only manages to spread the catastrophe further. He tosses the guac-covered spatula…

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April 6, 2022

“Trade an Honored Word,” by Michael Tyler

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“Trade an Honored Word,” by Michael Tyler

Sam lays beside, a strap released and delicate to the touch, bare back to the sun with a touch of whiskey to give the afternoon a kick.  Charlie ties her hair back and applies lotion to Clay’s nose as he regales us all with tales of Amsterdam misadventure. A girl at each window, feigned desire amid fatuous aside from each passing native. Clay took a girl to a room, she cried as he undressed, he paid and let her be. She took his hand as she closed the door and returned to the window, he waved as he passed and that was Amsterdam.  Clay has a fight in two days and Charlie notes he’s looking gaunt. He says it’s worth it for the adrenaline alone and it will not keep him from the whiskey. Charlie’s…

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March 9, 2022

“Counselling,” by Brandan Hingley-Lovatt

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“Counselling,” by Brandan Hingley-Lovatt

Editor’s Note: We keep the author’s original spelling when it differs from U.S. English. In this case, Brandan’s UK spelling of “counselling/counsellor” with two Ls persists throughout this work. If I were to write my suicide note I think I’d sign it “I’ve never liked anyone more than myself and I like myself this much.” A parting statement which I think is honest. I can picture it—the note attached to my shirt with a safety pin, my limp body hanging from the ceiling; a plastic bag wrapped around my head for good measure.  Anyway, my counsellor says, “There are a lot of bad people in the world but there are good ones, too.”  I agree but respectfully say that the good ones are too small in number so it doesn’t really make a difference.  My…

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November 19, 2020

“The Blind and the Seeing Are Not Equal” by Ikjot Kaur

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“The Blind and the Seeing Are Not Equal” by Ikjot Kaur

Before I stopped seeing, I started dreaming a lot more. The dreams, if they can be called that, gradually increased in frequency and intensity. The whimsical visions of my dreams spilled over into my waking life, the line between the two states smudged. In the unravelling, I discovered a senseless, feral urge to read.   Books multiplied on the shelves overnight, in the dark, while I was asleep. I wandered into used bookstores and rifled through the pages with a hunger for ink. I pored over the manuscripts in my office, the paper rustling under my fingers. Boxes filled with paperbacks arrived at my doorstep. I cracked open their spines. Words crept under my front door, slid over the carpets, climbed into my bed. I read passages out loud, swirling the syllables around my mouth like sips…

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August 11, 2020

A New Call for Submissions

Posted by in News
A New Call for Submissions

Fiction writers, rejoice! Our fellow writer and Barista Jason Brick, after struggling through the Portland riots to get back to his computer, is launching a new publishing project, Flash in a Flash. It’s a twice-weekly email that delivers a single flash fiction directly to subscriber inboxes. Although you can write about anything, Jason asks that you keep it to 1,000 words or fewer. When you go to his submissions page, be sure to sign up for his list so you’ll be the first to see your story when it’s published. Jason is our most active barista in terms of publishing the works of other writers. He has published three flash-fiction anthologies, each featuring 100 different writers’ stories (think about that!), and is planning a fourth with the works from Flash in a Flash. He also publishes…

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