a taste of ‘October’

… things are even messier …

scroll down for tastes …


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How can someone so tiny – he can encircle both her wrists with one hand, her feet look like a doll’s when she shuffles around in his flip-flops, his shirts reach more than halfway down her thighs – be so strong?

Guilie Castillo Oriard, Illusions, Lethal Weapons, and a Can of Maggots


Alexei continues to sit quietly in his chair, a thin smile, as if bemused, seemingly unconcerned about the broken maquette, unnervingly (to her) accustomed to her tantrums. “A small cut of the action would be useful.”

Townsend Walker, Lana and Alexei


In one deliberate move, he casts away. Max is glad of these rituals. He is glad for the chance to have said goodbye.

Derek Osborne, Saying Goodbye


Well, fuck them all. Fuck God. It’s his fault, not mine. My parents complain I’m only in shul an hour instead of all day “with that shiksa.”

Gloria Garfunkel, Yom Kippur


“Your father is a lout, but he would never do such a thing,” Charles’ mother had insisted. She was wrong, it turned out.

John Wentworth Chapin, Ultramarine


He’s had two other visitors. One was his off-again, on-again fiancée, Gloria. She brought Dad a stuffed squirrel, holding a tiny golf club.

Lynn Beighley, Wrecked


I soar and see the other, more famous sign: Arbeit Macht Frei, with the barbed wire dividing the world.

Andrew Stancek, Adam in the Sky with Diamonds


We show a lot of South American, gay, underrepresented artists (probably why Frederico thinks that Blake’s work sucks). It’s really been opening up my horizons; Frida Kahlo in particular is a favorite of mine.

Rachel Ambrose, Savvy


I hate the admin, resent every second spent on the secretarial side of things – and not just because I miss the sexy sass of Zoe at her desk – but this is the only way to keep my hand in (sometimes literally) …

Gill Hoffs, Call, girl


Looking into her eyes, Edward wonders how much she knows about her husband’s adulterous activities. He offers his hand, which she takes.

Jessica McHugh, Mouthpiece


Well, I had planned on being alone this whole weekend, here in Amsterdam … Happy bloody birthday to me.

Shane Simmons, Lekkere Klote Verjaardag


… with his parents’ blessing, he’s deferred his first year at Middlebury and decided to set sail. No plan, no schedule – except to move south quickly as the winter season sends the snowbirds searching for warmer latitudes.

Michelle Elvy, Swell


When I roll it down, a man asks if I’m okay. He says he saw the coyote, too, but that it just appeared out of nowhere, dumb luck my hitting it, what are the odds.

Len Kuntz, Death On the Freeway


I pronounce the words slowly and carefully, trying not to make a silly voice the way I might at home, looking down at the tiny Greek chorus of faces watching me intently.

Michael Webb, Tenth Inning


In the game of love, much like the art of fly-fishing, it’s the patient man who gets the prize at the end of the day.

James Claffey, A Dish Best Served Cold


Back in the restaurant, Aaron had returned to his chair. He’d spun the flute slowly on the table and said, “She’d want us to be happy for her.”

Gwendolyn Joyce Mintz, The Last One Standing


There’s no purring tonight. Her eyes are clear, her breathing steady, but I saw her try to walk earlier, listing to the side, barely coherent.

Stephen V. Ramey, The Death of Mystery


The outdoor heat hits her when she opens the door, the wind quiet for the moment. The bitter scent of smoke drifts in. Must be a fire in the hills nearby.

Gay Degani, Devil Wind


The Nobel Committee has been surprisingly silent this year, so the Nobel-snoops are saying … I was just wondering if you’d heard the magic words Nuclear Fission in The Pyrenéeas mentioned in a warm and glowing way recently?

Sally-Anne Macomber, Swapsies


Anthony’s been zonked out with jetlag until this morning, snoring loud enough to be heard in every room of the house. He’s now wide awake and ready to announce his grand plan.

Mandy Nicol, Revelation


Ned thinks Jeffery is imposing, but kind-hearted, and Jeffery thinks Ned is hilarious, so the two men became dog-walking buddies.

Margaret Bingel, The Way It Is


To be honest with you, Doc, I don’t know what she sees in me. I see a lot in her of course. Someone kind, almost like a blessing to life itself. She has a great sense of humor.

Darryl Price, This Particular Feeling


I’m in a window seat next to Jabba the Hut who won’t get up to let me put my coat in the overhead bin. He says, climb over. I call the flight attendant.

Teresa Burns Gunther, You’re Trash


I swipe it off the tray table and hand it to him. And it’s then I realise, as I feel the cloth on my fingers as he takes it from my hand, that it’s cloth, it’s not hairy at all.

Matt Potter, Morgana Malone and the Riddle of the Wrong Rug


She was talking to a cocktail waitress who was nearly naked. Their mouths moved together in perfect rhythm to a silent count. They looked me over.

Gary Percesepe, Frankie and Gary are Married


Before Samford can fully envision himself banging this Sarah on the elephant, the most ridiculous thing he has ever seen occurs, which is saying a lot because he was just watching a woman seduce an elephant walking on a tightrope with a backwards baseball cap …

Nathaniel Tower, Samford’s Circus Act


She poops. Which is natural. I would have very much liked the chance to dump a load in front of a crowd who thinks nothing much of it because it’s happening during the miracle of birth.

Kimberlee Smith, What He Deserves


The first time he was sick, I drove him to chemo every Wednesday. We played pinochle for hours in a dry humming room filled with tubes and recliners. “Don’t let me win,” he warned me, though sometimes I did anyway.

Vanessa Weibler Paris, I Couldn’t Go


It’s stormy tonight; the windows are rattling and leaves are flying everywhere. I hear every creak of this old house. Maybe I should get a dog.

Joanne Jagoda, Eli’s Mission


Ok, so, *deep breath* mine and Brandon’s issues. After I went home with Gingerhead and nothing happened, I spilled the beans to Brandon. And because I felt so guilty.

h.l. nelson, October is Cold


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