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| Cover Page Fiction Non-fiction Poetry Artist of the Month Photo Essay Submission Guidelines |
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Cover Page Fiction Non-fiction Poetry Artist of the Month Photo Essay Submission Guidelines |
Pequeño by Daniel Williams Once upon a time in the quaint province of Pequeño a prince and princess were wed. Church bells rang out over the picturesque landscape for the newlywed royalty. They were both heirs to the legendary families whose sugar cane fields dominated the hills and valleys in the distance. Princess Formicidy was petite and sprite, with a sweet tooth and a penchant for adventure. She had heard tales from the very few that would return from long travels and trying travails. Tales of grisly encounters with huge sea creatures and towering giants would fuel her wanderlust. Ultimately she would meet Prince Hymen, a courageous and handsome lad who feared nothing. He made up for in strength what he lacked in stature. Though he was quite short, he boasted that he could lift fifty times his weight. Together they would embark on a perilous journey to a vast and beautiful coastline. The prince cut a swath through the thick vegetation with his trusty sword as they made their way toward paradise. They scoured the waterfront for the finest castle ever built. The search lasted many days until suddenly Princess Formicidy exclaimed "there on the beach front!" She was exhausted and sore from the long trek but managed to smile as she marvelled at the great fortune before them. The castle was truly remarkable, a grand fortress surrounded by a moat. "Perfect!" Prince Hymen shouted, barely able to control his enthusiasm of the spectacle towering in the distance. Tripping over their own feet they ran towards their destiny. As they approached the glistening castle, a drawbridge lowered over the moat and a small figure appeared from within. "Don't get too many visitors here" he said to the sunburned couple, "Please come in for a drink." Princess Formicidy recognized the frail godsend and cried out "Father Nate! It has been so long!" She could not believe the good fortune of meeting this great figure after so long. "So this is where you have been all this time" she said, answering her own question. "Everyone thought..." " Ah yes my dear", admitted Father Nate, "but it is time for me to return to Pequeño. "I miss the church and the townsfolk...and the sugar." The three shared in laughter and drink as Father Nate further explained his reasons for leaving the pristine waterfront. "This is a very dangerous place to be," he cautioned as he motioned towards a wall displaying several trophy sea creatures mounted in precarious positions. |
"So it is true?" asked Prince Hymen, staring in disbelief at the oversized sea skeletons and shells adorning the room."Oh yes" Father Nate confirmed as he rolled up his slleves to expose the many scars he incurred from his battles with the crustaceans. "With the tide comes peril and I can no longer endure the hardships. The castle is yours if you agree to save a room for me, just in case I return." The prince and princess thanked him for his generosity and asked him to invite anyone from Pequeño to colonize the beachfront around the castle. "There is safety in numbers" said Prince Hymen, then added "and plenty of room." Father Nate packed his bags and left for Pequeño that evening, an evening of a perilous tide indeed. Enourmous waves breached the moat as massive spider crabs washed ashore and climbed the castle walls Prince Hymen heroically dispatched one after another with his sword in a fearless fury of swashbucklery. Together they would defend the castle and brave the elements of this curious coastline. One fine sunny morning they were shaken from slumber by distant rumblings. The castle walls began to crumble as the unknown came crashing towards them. Prince Hymen leaped up and whisked the princess from the bed yelling "GIANTS!" "Mommy!...mommy!, Bobby's wrecking my castle!" cried the little girl with a bright pink bucket. "It's just a stupid sand castle" hollered Bobby. The mother sat up, adjusted her beach chair and called out "Leave her alone Bobby!...Come get yor snack before the ants get it." An army of ants in neat formation made their way towards the unsuspecting family. Father Nate led the battallion, snapping his incisors, calling out the commands. "Bite the giants and save the prince and princess!" |
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Cover Page Fiction Non-fiction Poetry Artist of the Month Photo Essay Submission Guidelines |
Safe by J. W. Smith Small crumbs of breakfast cereal dot the blue and white tablecloth. They have been taunting her for days. More than half of the crumbs seem to have dug themselves into the waffle weave of the tablecloth fabric. She picks at them like a child picking at an itchy scab, until they have loosed their grip from the cloth below. A flick of her fingernail sends one of the crumbs springing through the air. It lands fourteen inches away from the spot where it started. She flicks a second piece, but this crumb, like a stubborn tiddlywink, barely waves up and down as it refuses to be launched and maintains its hold on the cloth. Remember that space shuttle flight, the one that exploded as it made its way back to earth. Imagine being the mother, daughter, father, husband, wife, or son of one of the shuttle's crew. One moment life is good. Your beloved family member has completed the adventure of a lifetime and is returning home. You will be celebrating together in a few hours. Maybe showing your mom the 100 you got on you spelling test, or looking forward to your husband's joy when you hand him the envelope with tickets to the Super Bowl that you splurged on for his homecoming gift. Then the phone rings, or the disc jockey on the radio cuts into the middle of your favorite song with an announcement, or while you are watching the shuttle descend on your TV... An explosion so powerful, so high up... Life as you knew it is over. Her fingernail sends another piece of cereal into the air. This flake flies in a high arc over the salt and pepper shakers before making its escape over the edge of the table to land on the dining room rug below. This tiny piece of cereal, revisiting the good old days of 2 seconds earlier, has found a niche in the rug in which to embed itself. She stares at the spot where the crumb has landed and exhales as an "Ugh!" escapes her lips. Every summer the house is invaded by ants. The invasion doesn't last longer than two or three weeks and is usually confined to one room. Last year it was the living room, the year before that it was the mudroom, this year it was, of all places, the bedroom. One morning this week she had taken her mug of tea into the bedroom to sip at while getting ready for work. After she finished the tea, she left the empty mug on top of the dresser and went to brush her teeth. When she returned to the bedroom the mug was engulfed by a swarm of hundreds ants. She pushes her chair back and out from underneath the table, and picks up her cereal bowl . She walks into the kitchen and puts the bowl into the dishwasher. It is time for a cup of tea. She fills the kettle with water and places it on the front burner of the gas stove. She opens the window over the sink. A slight breeze flutters a pile of paper napkins on the counter next to the stove as she heads back through the dining room and across the living room to look out the front door. The emptiness of the deep blue morning sky is broken by the flight of a male robin. She holds up her hand to shade her eyes from the sun as she follows the bird's flight. She pushes the screen door open to get a clearer view. The blob of white excrement that hits her arm, and splatters across the front of the navy blue tee shirt she is wearing, seems to have come out of no-where. "Shit," she exclaims looking down at the splat of bird excrement on her arm. She goes back into the kitchen and wipes the white splatt off of her arm with a napkin that the breeze had blown |
dangerously close to the lit stove burner, before going into the bedroom to change into a clean shirt. The line of ants had not gone unnoticed, even with the direct hit of the bird poop on her arm. As a matter of fact it was the bird dropping on her arm that had caused her to shift her line of sight from the blue of the morning sky, to looking down towards the doorway threshold. Have you ever taken the train to commute to work or for a day trip into the city? Imagine you are sitting on a train just out side of Boston, Manhattan, Washington D.C.... Maybe you're reading the newspaper, working on the crossword puzzle like you do every morning, or telling your child about the museum you will be taking him/her to later that morning, then you hear a horrible screeching noise of metal crushing metal and when you look behind you, you have trouble making sense of what you are seeing - and when your mind does begin to make sense of it you immediately have to turn away because the person sitting two seats back has had his head crushed in by the car from another train that has just rear ended your train. The whistle of the boiling kettle calls her back to the kitchen. She puts a spoon full of loose tea into the small blue teapot that she uses every day, then pours the boiling water over the leaves before turning her back to the stove and staring at the dining room table. She considers the tablecloth for 2 seconds before marching towards it. In one fluid movement she has all four corners of the cloth folded in - trapping the cereal crumbs. She tucks the tablecloth under one arm and strides across the living room to the front door, which she opens before gingerly stepping over the line of invading ants. On the landing, she whips the tablecloth out from under her arm, grabs it by two corners, and briskly shakes it until all of the cereal crumbs have gone flying into the carpet of grass and clover that is just beyond her front step. The ants take no notice of what should surely be an enticement (who doesn't like to eat breakfast cereal after all?) hitting the ground a few feet away from the entry point of their invasion. She pauses for a moment to watch the stream of small black ants as they make their way single file over the lip of the door stoop and unhesitatingly follow their leader across its length. Their combined movement reminds her of the flow of a river during Spring runoff. She gives the tablecloth one last good shake through the air before folding it neatly and carrying it back into the dining room, where she places it in a drawer. She refills the kettle and sits back down at the table while she waits for the water to boil. The ants, fine just one moment before, don't know what hit them. Puffs of steam had escaped from the spout as she carried the kettle towards the front door, bringing back the memory of a ride on a tourist steam train she had taken with her family when she was a child. Standing just inside the landing of the front door, she briefly reminisces about that trip. How the train tracks followed the steep side of a mountain and how, when she looked out the window of the train car as it made its way around a sharp curve, she had been afraid that the train would go over the edge. She had grabbed hold of her mother's hand and held on as tightly as she could. "Its okay, we're safe," her mother had reassured her. Still, for the rest of the ride, she had stayed as far back from the train window as she could. She frowns at the memory, then looks down at the little ant bodies floating in the puddles of hot water at her feet. The lifeless black bodies remind her of the tea leaves steeping in her teapot. She turns her back on the scene and walks back into the kitchen and pours herself a cup of tea. |
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