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Month: March 2010

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I Ain’t Afraid of No Black Bird, Part II: The Bird is Mine

March 26, 2010October 3, 2019 | DennisCarter

Millie glanced at the diploma hanging next to her mirror. –”Dr. Millicent Fethermann…hmm“ That’s how the voice of the hand that wrote it would have trailed off as it grudgingly signed that piece of paper. In the mirror she could see the raven, turning its one good eye towards her and blinking, clacking its beak

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A Sam Phelps story: The Laughing Man

March 25, 2010October 3, 2019 | DennisCarter

Level -5, the Lava Suite. Sometimes, I sit in my office and daydream about what I’d do if I had money. You know, a lot of it. I’d buy myself some decent clothes, a car, nice place to live, a hooker or two. Nothing fancy. I always preferred low key. But I guess when you’ve

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I Ain’t Afraid of No Black Bird

March 12, 2010October 3, 2019 | DennisCarter

It was a sky of grey slate which the ravens perforated that morning. They sat on the branch of the great tree, and every morning it was the same question. –”Papa, when shall I have one of the black birds?” –”You can never have one Millie, my silly, they are wild things and will snatch

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Minutes away

March 10, 2010October 3, 2019 | DennisCarter

She was occupying the bathroom. He needed to shit or puke… one or the other, or both. He giggled, he couldn’t wait for her to get out because he wanted to see her, but he also needed to shit, to puke, to piss, to clean his face and go ‘aaah.’ He was drunk, and so

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The Road to Albany

March 6, 2010October 2, 2019 | DennisCarter

by Judy Swann I decided to call the guy up and leave some Dylan on his machine. I practiced how I would tell him I was changing my name. I was driving behind a pickup, wobbly red butt straight ahead. To the left the snow-covered hills and ovals of cradled grain. Prickly grass still peeked

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Canoodle, K-neadle, or The Esurience

March 6, 2010October 3, 2019 | Robin Wyatt Dunn

Hosted and Edited by that well-loved star from the cult 80s vampire film, ‘The Munchies’ – Jools Vicker, the Spider from Saturn. The Spider from Saturn shuffled onto the park bench, and lit a cigarette, holding it between his pedipalps. He squatted on all thirteen of his legs, and began. ‘“Life without pain has no

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The Burial of Sir Dean

March 6, 2010October 3, 2019 | DennisCarter

by Lara Schembri “This is the night…in which all the horses…are sickly white.” The voice was placid and flat like dead calm in open water, though the context led one to hear an imaginary satisfaction in the tone, a hint of cackling. It didn’t fall out of an open maw, it floated inside a sealed,

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