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A Nonfiction Behind the Scenes look at how the Arcana Magi Universe came to existence.
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when the surface of a photograph gets like this that it has gone blind
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temporary objects of desire
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The decision is made. I am going to a Zumba class. What better way to achieve behavior modification than to leave my TV and fuzzy bear slippers behind for some hot Latin aerobics in a strip-mall? I try to pull my hair into a ponytail that will make the two inches of…
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I imagine Gene Simmons licking a twelve year old girl that looks like Erin dressed in a dog collar and leash.
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My first love was a woman of principle. Never deny your man was her motto.
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I’m glad they put the wall up. When it gets a little humid around here, I can smell those damn people.
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“Now I see clearly my whole life is pointed in one direction — there never has been any choice for me (Travis Bickle, "Taxi Driver").
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His feet are the size of thumbs, the segments of his toes no larger than grains of rice.
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A strange and unexpected shift has occurred.
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Her shoes, left uninhibited below, seem sad but understanding, and she is so in love with something, which makes me so in love with the idea of her.
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It rained on the morning of the party, and the weatherman promised it would continue throughout the day. But Marilyn didn't mind. She actually preferred entertaining in bad weather. Her rugs weren't valuable enough to worry about, and the gloomier the sky
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The latest teen abuse of an ordinary household item? Late-night “lint roller” parties at which boys and girls engage in heavy “feel-up” sessions that can lead to unwanted pregnancies, white slavery and in extreme cases, marriage.
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“What about the other groups coming here?” I ask. “Were they asked what they wanted in these houses?” She turns and looks at me, like I've suddenly come onto her radar.
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I have an appointment set for the day after next; you said you thought you might be firing blanks and then I feel a kick into my chest—two kicks, three, seven at least—my cat is going crazy at the stinky tom outside the window and the birds are waking, sc
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Either it was rescue--if the customer was alive to be found--or recovery, the term for bringing out the dead.
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the dream went by this way/
i woke and held a cigarette/
the hudson wore winter white
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Cat summoned for jury duty in Boston
Wayward hawk loose inside Library of Congress finally caught
(God only knows what happened to the doves)
Vacaville roof collapse blamed on bird droppings
These are a few of my favorite things
Piano mysterio
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Dear Patricia, You look marvelous. You seem marvelous. You've added wonder to Oprah's life and that's no small feat. But, here's the thing. I was working on this short story about a relative trying to get in touch with O, one of thousands, except, this one, well this one…
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I was low on carburetor / oxygen and my fraud protection / had just expired.
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hunting after dark,/
in the quiet they seemed to appear/ with every new poem I read, each new workshop, some hunting carried on/ by both animals.
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“What can I do for you?” he asks Dan, who then rolls up his shirt sleeve to reveal a list of names etched into his arm, with lines through them, like a scrawled timetable on a prison wall. The last name on the list is the only one without a strikethrough
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Why not just self-publish on Fictionaut and be read by thousands of my peers? Why not release my cherished work directly to my thousands of Facebook or Twitter or blog friends? Can the budding writer that I am realistically expect a larger audience?
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In the fall it is especially beautiful with the blazing orange oaks set on fire against a crystal blue sky. It is here that she frequently daydreams of her demise.
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N-n-never screamscold a cat.
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In one section of the map C climbs a staircase.
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My first year I hated how big and unruly the plants got.
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“Out-of-work samurai have a choice,” says Bobby Ito. “They can terrorize local peasants at county fairs, or underbid low-skilled workers for menial jobs.”
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There’s a problem with falling for a mostly straight girl. And by mostly straight, I mean, when you and I met at the Christmas cocktail dress-up party a year ago, you in red spandex with white fur trim and me in my straight-from-work black slacks and grey
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Who hasn't got a scar...some flesh wound of memory.
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