The story of the week for September 25 to 29 is…
Beneath Layers by R.R. Bastek
TOM SHEEHAN: Also Henry
Cemetery boss said, “Check out the old homeless Vets’ activity. The hole dug yesterday’s been disturbed. Make sure the casket’ll fit.” A gravestone was erected: “Herbert Sendall 1932-2017.” Later inscribed: “Also Henry.”
He heard a Vet say, “We put old Henry down. Free of all the hullabaloo.” He saluted sharply.
Tom Sheehan wrote this story.
BILL COX: Heart of Indistinct Murkiness
Alone in the office at night a slow madness overtakes me. It begins with a paperclip chain. It ends when the cleaner finds me, the Emperor of the Paper Cup People, berating the massed ranks of my subjects, my nudity covered only by yellow sticky notes. The horror! The horror!
Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland, where he works as a professional haggis hunter.
EO HARGREAVES: Familiarity
It’s the woods and the painted barnstar that hangs upon my neighbor’s house; the nightly vigils that loiter in the windows and the blue Dodge Dart eaten by rust that Mr. Thomas refuses to get rid of.
Placing newly built concrete gods in the rearview, I wonder… where’s home now?
E.O.’s pretty sure that Starbucks is evil. Stores keep spontaneously appearing where trees, herbs, and game used to be, even though their coffee isn’t very good. What type of obscure witchery is this…?
RR BASTEK: Beneath Layers
It’s tough being queer when no one knows, and the closet only gets hotter during the summer.
I play dress up all I want—it is a closet, after all—but it’s stifling, uncomfortable.
When I peel away the lace, it’s soaked with sweat, and I peel away with it.
R.R. Bastek is a first-generation Polish-American writer interested in exploring life through the lens of literary fiction.
HENRY F TONN: Virginia Woolf’s Last Reflection
While filling the pockets of her overcoat with heavy stones, she idly mulls over her long-held belief that removing a writer’s demons can also take away those angels that create wondrous prose. “Well, it doesn’t matter now,” she thinks, wading deeper into the River Ouse. “The angels have abandoned me.”
Henry F. Tonn has had his fiction and nonfiction published by some of the finest literary journals in America but his novel, “Ascent to Madness,” a historical novel about Zelda Fitzgerald, had been rejected by over two hundred literary agents. He blogs sporadically at henrytonn.com.
CR SMITH: A Useful Guide For Hiding Grief: Appearance is Everything
Never forget mascara; it’s very useful for opening up sleep-deprived eyes.
Not too heavy, mind. You don’t want someone looking too closely, or they might drown in your sorrow. And thick eyeliner acts as a distraction. Wear it smudgy so people can’t see when you’ve been crying.
Apply red lipstick.
CR Smith is a student of Fine Art. She splits her time between art and writing. Her work has appeared both on online and in print.
Find her on Twitter and at crsmith2016.wordpress.com.
HELEN SPARROW: The Dilemma
Every once in a while she gets the distinct feeling that no matter how hard she tries, no matter how efficient and attentive and understanding she is, things are never going to work out between the two of them.
She can’t tell if these are moments of despair or lucidity.
Helen Sparrow digs tea and idolizes her chemistry teacher.
SUSAN LOZANO: Escape
Staring at the computer screen, wishing she were somewhere else.
The banks of the Euphrates, the moors of Scotland, the Australian Outback, the beach.
Anywhere but this cold, lifeless cubicle.
Flipping the screen, she looks at her bank account balance.
Back to the drudgery to one day earn her escape.
Susan is a Curriculum Developer at a mortgage company. She is widowed with two grown daughters, two stepsons, and four awesome grandchildren: two boys and two girls.
SUSAN GALE WICKES: Easy Mark
“Take one more step and I draw.”
Six years old, he carried a toy gun and barked commands at everyone within earshot. Most days, I ignored him. I really couldn’t blame him. At his age, I’d done the same thing.
I really should have listened. That bullet nearly hit me.
Susan Gale Wickes is from Indiana. She spends her days writing poetry, short stories, songs, and the occasional cartoon caption.