Chocolate Spiderweb
“Whoever invented almond bark is a genius.” The microwave beeps and my sister grabs two oven mitts off the counter. She stabs the door latch on the microwave, and the door springs open. She reaches into the microwave and pulls out a glass measuring bowl full of melted brown chocolate. “Seriously. Genius.” She carries the bowl across the kitchen to the far counter. A sheet of wax paper has been laid out across the Formica. She sets the bowl on the counter and opens the cupboard overhead. It is full of sugar. ...
Read MoreThe Pink Pack
She clung to the backpack as if she could not endure the separation that strapping it across her back would entail. Stick-thin arms encircled the neon pink bundle with such force that I thought the contents would erupt like lava from a caldera. My daughter — my heart knots at the word — was four years and three months old the day I met her, and I’m ashamed to admit that her pack was what the first thing I noticed, not the satiny tresses that cascaded in a black waterfall over her shoulders, or those enormous onyx eyes. I had yet to discover that one tiny scarlet shoe was...
Read MoreTerminal Opera
I watched a mockingbird die this morning, With factory smoke and runway to backdrop her exit. Having banged her skull soundlessly against the thick window, she fell on her back. “Oh, no.” I heard myself say. The scaffold of weightless skeleton descended to graceful slow-motion. Feet lost their hold and sank; seed-eyes emptied, tailfeathers froze straight to blank, blue sky. Out. The man who heard me, looked. “Oh that.” He said, turning back to take an obliging picture for a mother nearby whose little boy did not notice the body on the ledge as he pressed his...
Read MoreSeptember Contest Poll
Time to vote for the September contest! The September topic was “Back in the Saddle.” The first entry is flsh fiction, “My Fear Factor,” by Terry McKee: Here it comes again, that ever so faint fluttering in my stomach. It sits in one little spot at the bottom on my tummy, tickling me like a mother tickles her small child, except this isn’t fun. This is fear, unabashed, full-fledged, tingling FEAR. I know it all too well, and as much as I try, I can’t seem to escape it. I try to reason it away but it’s no use. It’s as if this emotion has a mind of its own and stubbornly...
Read MoreContest Winner & September Topic
Congratulations to Lindsey Renuard, who won our June short-form contest at Wild Violet. Her winning entry will be viewable both from the direct link here and from the “Contest Winners” category (accessible from the sidebar). My apologies for not running contests in July and August, but I was busy adjusting to life with my newborn baby. Gradually, I’m getting back on track, so now I’ll announce the topic for our monthly short-form writing contests (500 words for fiction, 20 lines for poetry). Topic: “Back in the Saddle” Deadline: midnight, Friday, September 24 To...
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