Lit of the Week Winners:
Aconitum-Napellus adalaine almcdermid andrewpom angeljunkie Avallynh AzizrianDaoXrak backbones vellusz beeinthebottle BeyondJen Blacksand459 bowie-loon123 brassteeth colbalt-rain CrumpetsHarvey CupofCharlie DearPoetry disrhythmic doughboycafe Drunken-Splice emilyericson EternalSunday Fleeting-Epiphany FuzzyHoser glossolalias gogocherryrose GothKoala439 gummyrabbit ingle-nook intricately-ordinary iPawed IyraEMM jade-pandora jswebb Judah-Leonardo QuiEstInLiteris KaitForest KeanuWantRoomService LaBruyere LiliWrites lizilicious lluviosa MattVoscinar momo-madness mystichuntress nawkaman neuroticmnemonic Nichrysalis Obsidian-Nightfall ohmistermagazine oracle-of-nonsense orphicfiddler Nichrysalis Phu-Phu-Hugs-Me pomohippie7 pseudometry Psyghostis QuiEstInLiteris Raaawrli RainyhawaiiV2 reflectionsinwater RestlessSands riparii RiseandBe rlkirkland Rosary0fSighs RussianTim ryante devsaartha: saevuswinds Sammur-amat Scarlettletters SilverInkblot ssensory starell That-Writer-Kid TheGlassIris TheGreatSpyExperim LeftUnfinished tonepainter toxic-nebulae travelgirlxx trembling-knees TristanCody Venry VicariouSoul Vigilo WetKakashi whatpumpkins winterkate witwitch your-methamphetamine ingle-nook zebrazebrazebra
Let's Never Meet Featured Writers:
never mindI guess it’s kind of funny, if you think about it. You always see in the movies – in the TV shows – people running and screaming and praying and stuff. That’s what Hollywood always thought it would be like. Some sort of ‘death cloud’ or something – or like an asteroid or something like that – that just happened: that just totally hit everybody by surprise.never mind by andrewpom
People have known about it for months. It’s not like in the movies. The word ‘inevitability’ comes to mind: and hey, guess what? Nobody cares to run from the inevitable. It’s pretty stupid – isn’t it, if you think about it – how people, in the movies, try to run from inevitable death. Everybody has decided what they were gonna do today weeks ago, maybe even months ago. Say goodbye to family, spend time with girlfriend, et cetera et cetera. As with the Kubler-Ross effect – or whatever it's called – p
Creepy-Crawl.When it rains, the snail comes.Creepy-Crawl. by Kurt-Jarram
And he tells unto me
all his gastropedal tales
from moss and rotted leaves.
He speaks of insect friendships
and also enemies.
“Beware,” he says “the centipede
and other vicious bugs
Beware” he says “Our cousins
Beware the shell-less slugs.”
“Be kind.” he says “And please leave
no salt on the kitchen floor
and, oh, would you please remove
those pellets from near the door.”
“My helix friend,” I say to him “Your words are truly wise.
A way for us to live in peace
I'm sure we can devise.
You, the noblest of bugs, who can neither bite nor sting.
I do declare your shell to be
the palace of a crawling king.”
When it's dark, the spider comes
and whispers in my ear.
How she, the arachnid garden queen
is hardly a thing to fear.
“Let me live,” she says “within your house's darkened halls
and silver tapestries I'll spin
to hang on every wall.”
She says “
Hey, Jealousyeyes cloud overHey, Jealousy by Cionie
and alcohol makes
what isn't "fair"
and a location shift
all is forgotten
the next morning
for fear of embarrassment
just a loosely titled "friendship"
swept under the rug
Vulnerable If there are wolves at the door,Vulnerable by saartha
let them in.
The human condition is:
walking into the cold
with no coat, just the world
wrapping blue around
the bluing self.
Arrange them like dolls
around the kitchen table.
Is: finding yourself
vicious, which is
something like joy, a
snarl of love
from the body
to the body.
Cyrch a ChwtaA zephyr, a blast of rainCyrch a Chwta by NathanielFlyingOwl
Unleashes Nature's refrain
Each raindrop seems to contain
An elegance and great pain
And I struggle to restrain
The tears of my spirit's bane
What a melancholic strife
To fill my life with disdain
A Crane's DodoitsuA couple of sand-hill cranesA Crane's Dodoitsu by NathanielFlyingOwl
Have woken me up this morn
Not that I am complaining
A pleasure to hear
The Half-life of PheromonesBecause knowing you will ruin you,The Half-life of Pheromones by RussianTim
I’ll stop asking what time it is and
holding my breath when I see you.
I won’t try to meet your eyes
or invite you out to dinner.
Forward unto the opposite of memories.
The minute hand pointing away,
like the widowed victory, months from now,
when you won’t remember my name.
Maybe you would have told me something
that your father once said about amity
and the art of never starting over. Like-
“The best way to end a war is not to begin one.”
So why risk the promise of an atomic bomb,
if I can simply avoid the grazing of our hands
and conversations about our favorite bands?
Because knowing you will ruin you,
I’ll exhale your essence, I’ll let the hours fade.
The First Time I Saw Him Part 2‘I wanna fall in love, but all my tears have been used up on another love’The First Time I Saw Him Part 2 by CupofCharlie
- Tom Odell.
Despite the fact that I still felt ridiculously embarrassed, his words proved to be very reassuring and made me feel a lot less self-conscious. I felt very thankful toward him for that. My cheeks began to soften in colour; not quite the violent scarlet they had initially turned. I still felt slightly flushed, though I couldn’t quite explain why. When he attempted to keep the conversation going by asking my name, I couldn’t help but feel suddenly shy. I wasn’t sure whether he was just being polite or if he was genuinely interested in me. The thought that he might be interested caused my stomach to flutter ever so subtly. His mannerisms were all very laid back and casual – nonchalantly slipping his hand into his pocket for instance – but I couldn’t shrug off the feeling that perhaps he was trying to play it cool.
I cleared my throat before
Residence (Sample)I'm turning my Milo series into a full book. I'm aiming for around 100,000 words. This extract actually scared my mother which I see as a triumph. This is a rough draft and nowhere near the finished product so don't be too harsh. What do you think? I would love to know.Residence (Sample) by Kurt-Jarram
The room was lit by two bulbs with a purple, crepe-paper shades but what caught Milo's attention the most were the windows. There were no curtains, instead each pane was covered with a sari matching the colour of the shades. Where had he seen that before? He was sure that he had, a lingering memory that brought with it not only recollection of sight, but also smell, sound and sensation.
“So here we are.”
The voice rattled Milo from his pondering over the saris. He'd been so taken aback by them that he hadn't even noticed the room's occupants. Though now, as his eyes adjusted to the somewhat psychedelic purple of his surroundings, he saw three figures looking intently at him. Two women and one man. The women
Shock!This story is set in the same time and space as my novella 'Yum, Yum' (Which can be found in the pages of Bunbury magazine.) You don't really need to have read all or even any of it in order to enjoy this story. Though if you have then you'll be able to jump in a lot easier. If you're unfamiliar with 'Yum, Yum' and any of this seems disjointed or unexplained then I do apologise. I tried my best to make it as much of a stand alone story as I could.Shock! by Kurt-Jarram
'Yum, Yum' was born out of my life long love of science fiction, but ever since I started writing it I've pondered over whether it's actually a true SF story or merely 'Speculative fiction'. This issue's 'Power' prompt enabled me to further explore the goings on of the 'Yum, Yum' world and show that behind the dystopia theme there's also a lot of proper, all out CyberPunk stuff going on too.
Special thanks to my good friend Darren Hawes for lending me his editing skills.
The title was inspired by the Fear Factory song of the sam
Storm Music They say when I was first laid in my mother's arms, she gave me back to the nurse and said, "No. This is not a child of mine."Storm Music by xlntwtch
My father is the "they" I mean, the only one I heard tell that story. I guess he figured she meant it, because right away he took me as far from the Zuni reservation and my mother as we could get.
I don't remember being a little baby. I mean, who does? But I know my father drove his old car, with him and me and supplies, for miles and miles and miles. I hated that car. And he talked a lot, my Dad. He'd say, "Hey, freak. We're gonna cross a state line again. Mark it on the map." Or, "Hey, ghost boy. I gotta stop here for a few days. I'll set you up in a motel."
When my father said "set you up in a motel," he meant he'd get some half-drunk Indian to watch me, or more likely, to watch TV. He always went somewhere else. Some of those Indians fed me and some didn't, just like my father. I mean, it's like when I
Afterlife Astronaut“There is no God.”Afterlife Astronaut by AyeAye12
“Well, you don’t know that for sure-“
“Bernard, as an AI connected to every philo-science document, every parabyte of knowledge in the Human Empire, every logic string going back to the days of the Past Colonists... I can assure you, there is no God. It has been proven.”
Bernard sighed. His helmet visor fogged up then disappeared.
“I’m not going to bother arguing with you. Soon that golden gate is going to open, and I will walk into the Kingdom of Heaven. That should be enough proof.”
The gate in question was a smooth sphere of gold, slowly rotating on an equally dull pedestal. Crystal red spires pointed at specific points on the globe.
“You just don’t want to argue with me because you are in fear of how wrong you are. And how right a computer can be.”
Jude deserved to be muted, but sass like that always kept her voice a ubiquitous presence in Bernard’s helmet. A blue flash in the top
The TimesI was printed on the evening of November 27th, 2008, just as the weather was turning from chilly to cold. I was tomorrow's news. At the moment I came off the press, I told the future. I knew things before the rest of the world; it was wonderful. I knew what my purpose was: to inform as many people as possible about the world's happenings.The Times by CDing93
As I was put to bed, bound against my brothers and sisters, I dreamt of being passed around a construction site, making sure all the workers were aware of which sports team triumphed, and which celebrity was getting a divorce. I dreamt that corporate peons debated over politics, and the state of the economy and which policies would be most effective in fixing the existing problems. I slept contently, snuggled warm in the middle of a stack, ready to be shipped out the next day and sold to whoever wanted me.
The next morning was cold and blustery. I was so excited about being sold that I allowed the wind to ruffle my pages, since I couldn't move on my o
ViolinI remember the dayViolin by Scarlettletters
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
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The Exception, Not The RuleJust let you go. Cornucopia, meadowlark.
just let me die.
I'd like to explain,
and we are excess,
my dear Greyson;
He stutters through
Blurred butterscotch eyes,
And to ignore the capacity,
the pull of
I love(d) you.
The Electronic ZionismOPEN. Empty, black stage; the void.
Enter TUMBLR. Introduced with a plume of ocean-blue smoke. She is a woman, middle aged, dressed in a long and flowing navy dress.
She speaks to the audience, joyous;
TUMBLR: The feed has broken! Ferguson has grown in appetite and consumed the world in a righteous rage. Streets are aflame in the reds of freedom and all souls lay bare for Goddess Morality. The cosmic dialectic nears its conclusion. The samsaric GIF has stopped, rejoice!
A sickly hiss of emerald green smoke. Enter: CHAN, Manifestation Of Freedom’s Prosperities; Anarchy, Liberty, Decadence, Depravity. He is a crooked, dwarfish old man, holding a cane of volcanic bone.
CHAN: And yet, the politicians sip their Mountain Dew in a steel-grey White House. The bankers relax behind cardboard avatars of themselves. Hong Kong burns. Westminster burns. The Eye of Edgehill has been gouged out, left a gaping hole in the side of Elizabeth Tower, yes- but still the eaters find refug
Quintilla StanzasWith the passing of midnight grim
I hear that sound of mighty vim
The bellow of distant thunder
And as it resounds, I wonder
Why must the lightning strike with whim?
As I stand, with my waking eyes
Maintained upon the darkened skies
I contemplate whether my form
Can weather the coming storm
How strong it can make me, how wise
With the embrace of night so black
So begins the fall of cold rain
A lightning step with thunder crack
Shares with me its flashing refrain
Over its verse my soul does rack
Deep within my heart do I hear
Crashing songs of this storm so wild
These booming lyrics in my ear
What is that the thunder fears?
Does it ever feel like a child?
Another bolt of lightning strikes
Speaking without the slightest heed
To any of man's laws or creeds
Ignoring king and wretch alike
It simply goes about its deed
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