Category Archives: COLLABORATIONS

Six Word Stories Omnibus: Volume One

“For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

We think Mr. Hemingway may have been onto something with this six word story thing. They’re certainly a lot of fun to write, but perhaps it’s something he didn’t give a damn about beyond a means to make some quick cash off of his drinking chums. Those black market livers don’t pay for themselves!

However the six word story came about is possibly academic by this point. Perhaps the real point is to simply have fun with it. It’s an extreme version of flash fiction that many people seem to enjoy. Is it because we’re living in an ADD world? Or can meaning, and indeed entire tales, truly be conveyed in such micro-sized blips of verbiage?

Dear readers, we at Unbolt have been heartened by your enthusiastic response to our virgin attempts at composing our own six word stories. So, it’s without further ado that we introduce to you 17 true six word stories from yourselves, our loyal and talented fans!

We love you. Truly, we do. We don’t care about the colour of your skin or what religion you follow. There are more important things than being white, black, transparent or blue, and more important than dome shaped buildings, neon crosses and whether or not you know what Pascha is. (Is it a Slavic Easter or a brothel in Germany?) And even if you don’t celebrate your birthday, fuck it all! We love you, our dearest Readers!

Not for sale: 17 worn lives.

Story 1:
Is there a void or expectation?
by Sheldon

Story 2:
“I love you” starts being machine-like.
by What Is A Name After All?

Story 3:
That we always try to fill.
by Ink Blot

Story 4:
I didn’t get it at first.
by Bridget the Ladybug

Story 5:
This is so creative! You’re brilliant!
by Carisa Adrienne

Story 6:
A brand new day started yesterday.
Story 7:
And now today it starts again.
by Yradmo

Story 8:
Might have magically changed my life.
by Azul Zaffre

Story 9:
True love will always call back.
by Lord Walt

Story 10:
And it’s always good to enjoy.
by Tent Ninja

Story 11:
When love is shared, it grows.
Story 12:
Family is what you make it.
Story 13:
To love with truth is honour.
Story 14:
Honesty is more important than religion.
Story 15:
When the phone rings she dies.
Story 16:
Love to you both, my darlings!
by Madam Marmoset

Story 17:
And the blood just kept coming.
by The Grimoire of Keto

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2016

darwinian (heads & tails)

make your dogmatic statements
fluff your tail
you, who prefer understatement
and always fail

your beautiful love clique
it twists the knife
so i’ve learned not to look
i wanted to be one of you
but you made me a heretic

leave this moebius food chain
fill the blanks
you, who’s accustomed to refrain
can’t break the bank!

you likeminded super beings in
your plush echo chamber of
gonging egos make me sick
you make me want to grub for
transcendence in dirt (and i have to)

stop your lazy genetic drift
cut a strip
don’t count on the allel shrift
evolve, crip!

there’s pluck and plesh inside me
and the horizon is within my reach
you’ve forced me to evolve or die
so in the end it doesn’t matter
i’ll be gone and you won’t find me

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2016

Ripening

Did you not compel me
with your fertile landscape
to conceive a thought
of acquiescence
That I may touch heaven
if only for an hour
as your ripening buds
surrendered to my touch
Did you not propel me
with your servile hand to nape
to embolden in need
this quickening
An action birthed
with a pregnant pause
as your seasons
unfolded before me

You did not repel me
But let me lay a while
In your delicate layers
As we blossomed together

by PIXIEANNIE & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2015

1, 2, 3… Aspirate!

Gentle readers, were you aware that ‘aspiration’ has two meanings?

Of course, ‘aspiration’ usually refers to hope or a strong desire to achieve something, but it also refers to the mundane yet necessary process of breathing in and out. We cannot have one thing without the other. You see, hope is absent when we’re no longer breathing. And breathing without hope is like being dead already.

As long as we’re still standing here breathing then let’s aspirate, yes? Let’s dare to reach for the impossible–even if just for a short time–for tomorrow’s a blank page that hasn’t been promised to us. So, shall we fill the blank page that sits here with us today? Right now? In this very hour? Yes. Let’s do that instead of waiting for tomorrow’s pages.

We’ve had a wonderful year at Unbolt. Tony joined the fold and filled up the space with words to complement Tati’s own. We featured some of our treasured readers’ own works. And we received quite a number of awards and writing challenges too!

To celebrate the amazing year that was, we at Unbolt have put together two pages dedicated to the awards and writing challenges we’ve received so far. Why have we done this? Because we want to share those awards and writing challenges with you, dear readers. It’s our way of saying thank you for your support. You mean a lot to us. We want you to know that we appreciate every single one of you! So, please, feel free to click through to the Choose Your Award! and Choose Your Challenge! pages, and have fun!

Oh, and may we also wish you a Happy New Year? Yes, a new start full of breathing and aspiration. Just what the doctor ordered!

Yours ever,
Tati & Tony

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2016

The Odd Days & Life of Elatha Jarlath McGhille. Part B. Feabhra ~ The one came in from the cold collaboration

Scylla Beach

∼ Part I ∼

It’s midday and there are anxious knocks at his front door.
He wonders if the neighbors’ friends got the wrong door.
Opening to see about the commotion,
Seems to only heighten his confusion.

Nothing is there. Nope.
Nothing is there.

At his back door he hears those knocks again.
He rushes through his home like a madman,
To open his back door hoping to see who’s knocking,
Again he sees nothing.

It’s like staring into a nebula of discombobulated shadows.
Back to his living room he goes, then finds a black unicorn, a purple owl, and two black crows.
Overwhelmed. The sight further rattles his compunction.
As they fuse together causing a huge static emersion.

His body wilts to the floor
And…

∼ Part II ∼

“I told you, Clothra, owls can’t look like a bush of lilac!
See? What will we do with this unconscious sack?!
We should bring him to Emain Macha until Beltane
And I’m not going to get it in the neck again!”

“Shut up, Sweeney! Give you a choice and you’ll paint black
Even a rainbow. It would be better if you stop to clack
Like a clocking hen and help me to bring him round…
Hey! You, twins! Hurry up! Are you too spellbound?!”

“Clothra, don’t go playing the big boss!
Sweeney is right… you make too much of gloss!
We’re not buffoons… We’re… Oh! Did he open his eyes?
Hush! Hush, guys! Turn on the fireflies!”

The air is filled with a subtle glow
And…

∼ Part III ∼

His eyes. The color. Vacillates between black & violet
In a haze, volcanic echoes vibrate. Commanding him to fight…
Fight! Fight! Fight! Finger snaps, claps, and slapping wings
Bellows him to awaken with voices like un-Earthly beings.

He hears voices commanding him to come forth to receive his messages
A feeling as if his body is being bent into a set of strange corsages
He hears another set of voices, “Oh! Did he open his eyes?
Hush! Hush, guys! Turn on the fireflies!”

His visage of things seems blurred but are truly clear.
His mind again perambulates confusion and fear
As a hybrid bird stands before him speaking strange things,
Talking a language known and unknown, then odd names.

He surveys the room, their faces, and concludes there is no hostility here.
Soon enough he loosens up, wonders about message, curiosity wins here.
Wings extended, inviting him to take a seat. He does.

Their beak opens
And…

∼ Part IV ∼

…in the far country, where springs are crystalline,
Where trees are vibrant and women hiss like a feline,
At the world’s end where all must be as was foretold,
She embroiders a shroud with pearls and gold.

A needle pricks,
A horologe ticks…

She whispers prayers mixed up with ribald couplets
About kings’ weaknesses and queens’ merits,
She sips thick gin, wiping her mouth on the sleeve.
Intricate patterns on white samite interweave.

Beltane is soon. She looks at the dark sky.
A lone star gleams like a tiny firefly.
Elatha… She bites through a gold thread
And limply drops her body into bed.

A horologe ticks,
A door latch clicks…
Hush, guys! No monkey tricks!
Please, let her sleep!

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & GREGORY WAITS JR.
© All rights reserved 2015

P.S. Happy Birthday, Greg!

eskiz-cherno-belogo-pera

Part A. Eanáir