Depending on their imaginative powers, a snowfall can remind people of moulting angel-wings, of perishing mayflies or of a defective TV screen. When the Assistant Submissions Editor of Conglomerated Publishing, Inc. emerged from the subway that day into a swirl of snowflakes, he tried to be reminded of nothing at all—snow is snow is snow—but couldn’t help thinking, as usual, of millions of manuscript pages being shredded on high.
Archive for the ‘Fiction’ category
If Shakespeare Were Alive Today
In Fiction on 16 February, 20103.15.06
Dear Editor,
Attached is my poetry submission for your consideration: Venus and Adonis. I am a new writer and thought your site the perfect match for this poem. Thank you for your time in reading this.
Beware the Ides of March,
William Shakespeare
Read the rest of this entry »
The Poet (a fable)
In Fiction on 12 January, 2010A man sits down and writes a poem. It is not a great poem, he knows, but still, he has written it, and so it makes him feel proud. Everywhere he goes, he recites it in his head.
Then one day the man has a great idea.
Blockbuster
In Fiction on 7 December, 2009Ulber Krang was stabbed to death with his own pen.
It was night and ever-so quieter than usual. His office, cluttered with cigar tins, incense and curled-up paperbacks, was a small dot inside a massive estate. The grounds had grand trees and sweeping drives. The A-road beyond the ornate gates had faded from a peak-hour rumble to an eerie silence.
Big Foot
In Fiction on 17 November, 2009Eulogy
“He weren’t going to have his life stomped out by no big foot,” said the one in the black plaid Goodwill suit, winging a shriveled rose down onto the coffin.
Times New Roman
In Fiction on 11 November, 2009Friday nights had nothing to do with Times New Roman, besides the fact that the former was rendered from the latter. Feeling a little hungry and a lot horrible, Times New Roman ordered some pizza.
“How large is your medium?” it asked.
The Bad Poem
In Fiction on 22 September, 2009hobo dinners on the half shell
asian girls in tupac tees
white guys with chink eyes
the cobble stones are paved with blood
from rats that hide
beneath the street
Things I’ve Gained
In Fiction on 25 August, 2009Cradling the candle, he feels it is set, so he goes to the refrigerator to fetch the milk. He reads the label: the milk is whole. Having purchased the milk with the last of his funds, this is something he should know, something that shouldn’t come as a surprise, and yet it does come as a surprise. He drops the milk and the gallon splits, thus soaking his slippers in vitamin D goodness. Hurriedly, he squishes back to the desk, flame of the candle flapping like cloth. The milk has proven him wrong.
Bear In The House
In Fiction on 29 June, 2009My husband, Josh, couldn’t show up for his own birthday party. He was present at the dining room table all right, but just in body. Even when it came time to blow out his candles, he stared at the kids and me, giving us that vacant what?
“You’re doing the Granddad thing again,” Teddy, our six-year-old, said.
While The World Was
In Fact Sleeping
In Fiction on 31 May, 2009
The dingy bathroom he used when he woke up to take a piss was attached to his bedroom, and one thing in it stuck out: the clean glistening mirror. It was the kind of thing only he could half-understand, why he would clean the entire bathroom very seldom yet clean the mirror daily. He saw that his hair was greasy and matted to his forehead; instead of showering, he wanted to sleep more. He had the look of someone who’d been sleeping a long time yet wasn’t done.
Check, please?
In Fiction on 2 May, 2009Franz Kafka awoke one morning to find himself unpublished. This wasn’t much news to his family, who enjoyed passive-aggressively broaching upon his lack of literary prospects, with respect to his sister Ottla, a notable online writer. He had difficulty rolling off his back. What he thought was exoskeleton was just crust from a night of drooling. He was not looking forward to breakfast.
Best Screenplay
In Fiction on 2 May, 2009Oscar remembers only two things about Dr. Weisman’s office: a framed print of a watercolor depicting a nautical scene, and a tissue box with horribly rendered flowers.
– How was your weekend? Dr. Weisman asks.
Character and Setting
In Fiction on 5 March, 2009They leave a message. Well. Tommy has Tami call. She says hi Ty. Tommy wanted me to let you know that we’re doing another Poetry Explosion event in the spring and he’d like you to read. Right now we’re looking at two venues. One holds 300 people and the other 500. Either way the crowd should be more than decent.
The Editor
In Fiction on 24 February, 2009There was this guy. We’ll call him Michael. He ran this small literary magazine. He tried to publish underground writers. Mostly he published bad writing. There are plenty of them out there. Bad writers. He always wrote these funny rejection letters. Read the rest of this entry »