Tag Archives: Writings

What’s the Buzz

The day had turned out to be really nice. It was late March, or early April, I don’t remember. Who cares about calendars when the sun warms your belly so pleasantly?

I stretched and yawned. I happily glided between wakefulness and slumber. Maja’s winglets shone and lured me. And I could swear they were buzzing with a rendition of ‘Sweet Painted Lady’. I was lulled and aroused… It was getting hot, so I took cover under the leaves.

I don’t know how long I was drowsing, but I woke up because of human yells. I sighed. There’s nothing they enjoy better than making noise and mess. And they call us a plague, don’t they?

The yelling got closer and louder. The ground quaked, the bush shook. Drunk guffaws and ribaldry ripped this calm day in two like a butcher’s knife, beat the bejesus out of it. Someone brayed, “Jujube! Regale the King with sweet savories!” The crowd ululated and rushed to the bush. Holy Royal Hexapods! What were they going to do?!

It smelled of trouble, and I decided it was high time to bug out of this unfortunate plant. I made to leap off and… nothing happened. Reprobate Polyphagas! What the hell? I had a shot at jumping a few times in a row but it was in vain. The sun which had caressed me so pleasantly had also played a low-down trick on me. My back leg had tightly glued to a drop of melted resin. I made the only decision I could. I huddled under a leaf, sat tight and didn’t move. All I could do was to wait out this mayhem.

I have indistinct memories of what happened next. There was a snapping of the bush then someone bending a bagel shape out of twigs. I was like a poppy seed on its surface. There were cries of “Must die!” and “Hosanna!” A cacophony of voices, laughing and crying… the thick smell of blood. The smell drove me crazy. I was twitching like an epileptic and trying to escape this crowned trap. We’re not freaking grigs. We don’t enjoy the stench of flesh. I can’t bear this smell. I just can’t. Desperately, I sank my jaws into my stifled joint…

It grew dark. I hobbled slowly. At least I’d escaped with my life and other limbs intact. After all, it was only a leg. I had another five. And wings! That poor guy now dangling from a cross was definitely having a much worse day than I. Damn. I have wings! Why not just go? I took to the air and laid a course for Horeb. Everybody knows that the best nymphet stews are there, and I really need some rest now.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017

GUEST POST // Wonder by megdekorne

rare things are growing
the moon is moving , shalom
fly the burning flag of freedom
do you know what it’s like
to be almost swallowed home ?

he pours the tea
gold sugar , emotional weight
unfurls her hair
upon dew shoulders , a soul
scratching in the still and quiet
she is scared
and not scared
an amateur actress standing bare
first on center stage fore square.

“ Mary did you know ”
you have a regal stance ?
all mutate in your presence
the camera clicks
she turns her head
and when she sees she does transfix
her human vanishes
the bleak cold winter
a bountiful banquet
shattering dry in the rain debris.

Mary don’t dye your hair
wanting to change your wild esprit
I too am thirsty seeing you there
the moon is moving the tall pine tree
over passing Traverse Bay
glory joins utopian pupils
the lake of her eyes my northern stay .

a spaceship jolts
Issa is here and
he is calling for you
Mary , do you know what it’s like
to be swallowed home ?
I am scared
and not scared for you alone .

by MEGDEKORNE
© All rights reserved 2016

Holes and Constellations

Every so often, we like to brag. You know, just a little bit, but not too much. We don’t want our readers thinking we’ve gone and gotten too big for our britches now, do we? (Actually, what exactly are britches?)

Anyway, we’re capable of blowing more than bubbles from our noses. That’s what we’re trying to say. We’re serious chaps, we are! Well, a chap and a chapette. Ugh, you get the point.

Some of you may remember. Some of you may have forgotten. Some of you may have no idea whatsoever. But, yes, we kinda wrote two books last year, and even contrived to shove them into different, funny places called Amazon, Barnes&Noble, and iBook. And maybe somewhere else. We aren’t sure that we remember all of them.

Since then, the literary world has been set abuzz with a tizzy of excitement. Well, a bunch of readers decided to pay some attention to us. Okay, now guess a riddle, Dear Readers. J.K. Rowling has 20,665 what? E.L. James has 68,027 what? Tati and Tony have… TWENTY-FIVE! What is this? That’s right. REVIEWS.

Okay, that isn’t the total number of reviews we’ve gotten. This is just for one book so far. Both have gotten a fair bit of attention which means that James and Rowling need to beware! We’re nipping at your heels, guys! Do you see our gnashers glinting in the moonlight? But don’t worry. We’ll be gentle.

By the way, all the reviews we’ve received so far are 100% certified honest! We’re as proud of our one star ratings as we are of those reviews with five. No bullshit! We earned every single star, so we’re going to show them off for the world to see! Behold our brazen peacockery!

In the meantime, Dear Readers, please do check out our new dedicated Reviews page, and if you like what you see then why not check out Hole-in-the-Wall, our online shop? Our books are available there, and they’re waiting for literate new owners to claim them. Would you be so good as to give them a home? Now, if you don’t mind, we’d like to continue strutting our stuff and blowing funky bubbles from our noses… Pop! Pop! Pop!

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017

Lose to Night

Sisu in the face of certain doom.

There’s no earthly reason why I should be feeling what I feel today. From when my head left its pillow my stomach kicked in. It’s a coil of snakes writhing and golloping me up inside. I can’t concentrate to work. I can’t let go and play. I can only churn times ten. I’m a tight knot waiting to unravel.

The years have seen many friends fall to this monstrosity at the middle of me. Emotionally, I’m just too high maintenance. I go out of my way to cover it up but at some point the façade crumbles. It always does. And then they see me for what I really am. And they get overwhelmed. And eventually they flee.

So now I lock myself away, waiting to unspool. Please, for the love of criminy, just let me unspool. I want to come unutterably and exhaustively undone. Can I rejoin society then? I’m scared of losing the two people I care most about in this world. I need to be safe. Or at least safe enough to handle.

It’s not about aggression. That isn’t why I sit in this room listening to my music. It’s about having something be louder than something else. I need to rumble the snakes out, to shake the bastards loose. To let heavy metal do its thing. Maybe it can save me from myself this time. No, seriously. As preposterous and overblown as that might sound—as metal might sound—just… just save me.

I hear the voices roaring from the speakers. I feel them thundering from beneath the earth, drowning out my insides. And even as I lay buried, my roiling innards will not be silenced. So I scream too, adding my voice to this cognitive and sonorous dissonance. It’s never been about aggression. It’s always been about survival. About letting people know I’m still buried down here. Sleep is so stupid and wasteful. I have to live. I want to live.

I see you, you things inside of me. God, you’re beautiful, but you’re sick. I know what you are. And I know you cannot have me. See? I’m lobbing a Molotov. I’m torching you, motherfuckers. I will not lose to night.

Yeah. Sisu. Sisu in the face of certain doom. That’s what I choose.

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017

Six Word Stories #16

Can’t the damn cat walk itself?

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017