Dear Coffee Club Members: tomorrow night, Wednesday, July 31, you’re welcome to attend a presentation by Judith Briles, a writing consultant par excellence. It’s free, it starts at 8:00 PM Eastern Standard Time, and it’s sponsored by the Independent Publishers of New England. You needn’t be a member to sign up. Oh, and did I mention it’s FREE? ~ Cheers, Jack
Daniel Dlamini, a postgraduate student in marine biology at the University of Cape Town, switched on his laptop and checked his email. It was a daily routine. He would get fried hake, thick-cut chips, and a cheap beer from the cart parked outside the harbor, dine on the edge of his boat while the sky darkened from summer to winter blue, then check his email. His mentor, Dr. Samson Saris, was on an expedition and was due to have his reserves restocked, but two months had passed and Saris could not be reached. When Daniel checked his email an hour later, there was a new message in his inbox. With quivering lips and frenzied eyes, he clicked on the link and watched the first video attached to the email. ** He adjusted the camera mounted to the dashboard, smiled broadly,…
It’s always a pleasure to welcome ZBS back to the Fictional Cafe, and tonight is no exception. For your listening delight, we present all eight episodes of “The Night Has Begun,” a Dixon and Sparks radio drama. ZBS audio is very high quality, so headphones are recommended. We’re also very happy to display Genevieve Shapiro’s artistic talents in the featured image (so like a record album cover) here at FC again. Genevieve, in addition to her art for ZBS audio works, created the featured image for ten-year-old Joy Son’s very first published short story, “Princess Olivia.” Thank you for sharing your art with us, Genevieve! The story: Polly Parker believes someone has put a curse on her fiancé, Clifford Barnett. Clifford and his partner, Alan Hendrix, are what’s called headhunters — they find executives to run…
Favorite Things A few of my favorite things fill my head Sunlight through green leaves dancing in the dark Rap songs on the radio ignoring what is said Just moving along down roads lost in the mark Watching dancers soar wishing I was too Silver rain on bare skin cool wet slides down The sound of white snow falling in queue Black skirts a little too short peaceful small town And the way you looked at me like I lookedAt you lost in innocence the before The fall when we were both completely hooked Before we started cold trench and ash war Moment of love I am doomed to repeat With everyone that comes next like useless meat. ** Two languages (free form) Two languages And I can’t find the words Crawling in my mouth Screaming to be free Twenty-six letters And I can’t locate The syllables That read How you let go. How do I write When poems are all a…
I am dressed my best to do it, if that helps: a classy dress with large floral black and white print that falls just below my knees. It is strapless with a sweetheart neckline, the kind that looks good on everyone. I must have bought the dress for a special occasion, but I found it shoved in the back of my closet, unworn, tags still attached. The dress makes it appear less meaningless. I didn’t know of my attacker until after it happened. I didn’t even realize it had happened until months later. When I woke up there was just one man standing by the bed. I heard a variety of beeps all around me and a faint consistent ticking sound that seemed to be coming either from right below my head or inside my ear. I opened my eyes and stared up at a white…