“You always have to play the part, don’t you?” she slurs at his image in the bathroom mirror with her third-glass-of-wine inflection. “Maybe I do.” He adjusts the cufflinks on his sky-blue shirt, the cufflinks…
Browsing Category Fiction
Cyclone Racer by Chad Greene
Before he shoots them, he commands the man and the woman to put their hands in the air. The couple complies. Playing along, they also throw wide their lids and lips – producing silent simulations…
Scapegoat by Will Cordeiro
Todd, our hired-hand, clipped the goats’ hooves: a citified, a clean, a bit sissified boy. Left too long, they’ll prance around lame, having elf-slipper toes or tottering with high-heels like some two-bit drag queen. You’re…
Letter to the Editor of Rolling Stone Magazine, From Rabbit Foot Baker, Bluesman (by James Potter)
Dear Sir, I am not the kind of man who likes to make a stink. But I was just down at Shelly’s Porkpie Shack in Shreveport, Louisiana talking with a few folks having a high-time…
The Minotaur by Alfred Lord-Telecom
He lay on the rock then and dreamed, not knowing if the dream was memory or the memory a dream, a dream of milk and straw and warmth and slices of sunshine in the high…