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Showing posts from April, 2022

The Wrong Side

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by Patricia Feinberg Stoner Her little face was pressed against the glass pane. Her ears lay flat against her skull and moisture dripped from her whiskers. The conservatory door was open – how could she not tell she was on the wrong side of it? Grabbing a towel from the airing cupboard I walked out onto the rain-darkened boards of the terrace. I scooped her up and hugged her till the shivering stopped. ‘Silly cat,’ I said.   An invitation to a murder www.paw-prints-in-the-butter.com      

Bronx Paradise

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          By Linda S. Gunther June 20, 1967. I sat in the red-velvet cushioned seat wearing my royal blue cap and gown at the Loew’s Paradise Theater on the Grand Concourse in the Bronx. It was graduation day for Taft High School seniors and I was anxious for the moment when I’d be handed my diploma and catapulted into my future. The Paradise was how Bronx people referred to the palatial theater. The venue had been my Saturday afternoon hangout from an early age. As I stuffed hot buttered popcorn in my mouth and drank Coca Cola, I had watched countless popular movies in the late 50’s and early 60’s, my younger brother next to me, jabbing me in the arm while he threw white, pink and black Good and Plenty pellets down the back of my blouse. We’d laugh hysterically at Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin, cringe at monsters like Mothra, sing along with Elvis Presley as he gyrated his hips, marvel at John Wayne westerns and hold onto

Meditations on an Ant

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He watched the black ant make its way across the white tile floor. He needed to write a story about ants and he wanted it to be amusing but he didn’t think there was anything humorous about ants. What, for example, would ever make an ant laugh? Did they have stand-up comedians to entertain the group at night? ‘A funny thing happened to me on the way to the anthill’, could have them cracked up all evening. The ant was now going back, transporting a giant crumb found under the table. Could he write a story about ant stand-up comedians?   by Susan Cornford   Susan Cornford is a retired public servant, living in Perth, Western Australia. She/her has pieces published or forthcoming in Across the Margin, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Antipodean Science Fiction, borrowed solace, Cafe Lit, Crow’s Feet Journal, Ethel Zine, Flash Frontier , Flora Fiction Website, Frost Zone Zine, Granfalloon Magazine, Meet Cute Press, Mono, Mystery Tribune, The Mythic Circle, Quail Bell Magazine, The Shor

The Perfect Pot

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Once, at the dawn of time, there were two lovers. People had no names in those far off times, so he called her Beauty and she called him Strength. He built a hut from woven branches, beside a river which ran through a wood. In the day they would make love on the banks of the river, and at night they would make love in the hut. The earth seemed to respond to their love making and all around them the trees were laden with fruit and the waters of the river teamed with fish. Love was in Beauty and Strength and the earth and the sunshine, but summer cannot last forever. One day, a chill wind blew the leaves from the trees and chopped the smooth waters of the river into little waves. As if blown by the wind, a woman appeared on the opposite bank of the river. Her hair was as black as a raven’s wing, her lips as red as berries and her skin was as white as milk. When she bathed naked in the river, Strength could not take his eyes off her. He called her Desire. Beauty woke one morning and found

Vitiligo

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Dorian traced the edges of Nathan’s continents, marveled at how the coastlines of white met smooth butter darkness. Nathan sighed, content, half asleep on their shared bed, the morning light turning Nathan into both golden and impossibly dark radiance. Dorian moved from the island on Nathan’s chest to the archipelago trailing his jaw, exploring the difference with his eyes, while fingers swam the supple continuity of smooth skin. Nathan smiled, but took Dorian’s hand, and held it still.   K Andrew Turner K. Andrew Turner writes queer, literary, and speculative prose and poetry. In 2013, he founded East Jasmine Review—an electronic literary journal. He was a semifinalist for the 2016 Luminaire Award. Heart, Mind, Blood, Skin is now available from Finishing Line Press. Read more at: www.kandrewturner.com