Felicia Florine Campbell

Stick Men

This is a cautionary tale. Beware of Stick Men. You cannot hear their bones rattle when they walk. You cannot see their darkness when they talk. Coffee will not satisfy them. Where they feed is desolation.

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Joshua D. Miner

from Education City

5 January 2006

Al Nihaya or The End

“. . . even under anesthesia the monkeys blinked . . .”

A Wired News article, scrolled halfway through, showed on the dimmed screen of a Dell XPS 3.030 laptop not currently plugged into a power source – but no soul was there to view it, for the quiet American who had been reading was now at the window.

#

STITCH. STITCH. STITCH.

“Christ – already I’ve got something on my jacket. My black Jiuche Diesel jacket. How long have I had it?” Gold light was breaking through the entry. “Seriously, shit—” Cell phone buttons clicked and the noise of downtown hummed dully from the outside, a haze, while thin webs of decorative craquelure in faux gold-leafed columns and moldings around the lobby stood out in his peripheral vision. “It’s that fucking hummus from Sunday night – how come I didn’t notice it sooner? Jesus, hummus. How long have I had this thing again?” Hushed voices and the occasional obtrusive male laugh emanated from a side room, where four professionally-dressed men were lounging, drinking, smoking. It was four in the afternoon. “Hello?”

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Steven Kilpatrick

Hangman

I
keep having the same dream about you Jimmy. The media frenzy is over, but some small market tabloid didn’t catch on fast enough—so they call me at my home. They never know anything about what happened—or they say they don’t—and I’m never smart enough to just hang up the damn phone. I just answer all the questions like I’m sitting in a Catholic confessional. Sometimes I think it’s you on the other end—pretending that you don’t know what happened—making me answer all those questions.

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Taylor Collier

Welcome Anytime

Ted had invited Robert over for dinner Saturday night so Robert could fix Ted’s computer. Linda had just finished preparing the meal when Robert knocked on the front door. Ted knew Robert from work, but Robert had never met Linda. He came in and shook hands with both of them.

“Hope you like your steaks with a little pink in them, Robert,” Linda said, ushering everyone into the kitchen.

“Everything looks and smells great,” Robert said.

“Wait till you taste it,” Ted said.

“Why are you always doing that?” Linda said. “Always trying to undercut everything I do.”

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