Originally I wasn't going to wax poetic about today, or recount where I was 10 years ago when the greatest national tragedy of our generation occurred, but somehow it's inescapable. I may have been witness to one of the most terrible things a human being is capable of, but for a time afterward, I was also witness to the best humanity has to offer. The memory of that day is, and will always be, Indelible.
This new issue of 50 to 1 brings you work from Don Dolan II, Justin Grimbol, Court Merrigan, Danica Green, KJ Hannah Greenberg, Sandra Ketcham and Greg Keuhn. Thanks to all for submitting.
Paul will never forget.
Look by Don Dolan II
She's got that look, yeah, he knows it when he sees it. Face molded into a smile that will never recede, a false warmth, but her eyes will always reveal the coldness that she holds. For him, it's typical, very much so, but he doesn't mind. And neither does she.
Don Dolan II lives in Mississippi and loves to think about the nostalgic days. He doesn't much like sauerkraut, but loves potatoes, except the skin. He also loves both cats and dogs.
She's got that look, yeah, he knows it when he sees it. Face molded into a smile that will never recede, a false warmth, but her eyes will always reveal the coldness that she holds. For him, it's typical, very much so, but he doesn't mind. And neither does she.
Don Dolan II lives in Mississippi and loves to think about the nostalgic days. He doesn't much like sauerkraut, but loves potatoes, except the skin. He also loves both cats and dogs.
Sex With Aliens by Justin Grimbol
The alien is just a big heart that has a vagina.
“Have you ever met a Bantolian?” it asks.
“No,” I say.
“They’re just big tongues. They’re really sexy.”
Whenever the alien and I have sex, it brings up another alien race. I think it likes seeing me get jealous.
Justin Grimbol lives in Portland Maine. His novel, Drinking Until Morning, was published by Black Coffee Press.
The alien is just a big heart that has a vagina.
“Have you ever met a Bantolian?” it asks.
“No,” I say.
“They’re just big tongues. They’re really sexy.”
Whenever the alien and I have sex, it brings up another alien race. I think it likes seeing me get jealous.
Justin Grimbol lives in Portland Maine. His novel, Drinking Until Morning, was published by Black Coffee Press.
Long Christmas by Court Merrigan
He brought her home to Wyoming. She smiled nonstop. An uncle loudly asked about her line of work. Before she got pregnant.
Prostitute, he told them. Grandma decided her hearing really was going. Kids were asked
to play elsewhere.
Outside, she made her first snow angel, cheeks ashen with cold.
Court Merrigan has been published widely, including PANK, Shotgun Honey and Evergreen Review. You can find links here. He lives in Wyoming's banana belt with his family and works at Eastern Wyoming College.
He brought her home to Wyoming. She smiled nonstop. An uncle loudly asked about her line of work. Before she got pregnant.
Prostitute, he told them. Grandma decided her hearing really was going. Kids were asked
to play elsewhere.
Outside, she made her first snow angel, cheeks ashen with cold.
Court Merrigan has been published widely, including PANK, Shotgun Honey and Evergreen Review. You can find links here. He lives in Wyoming's banana belt with his family and works at Eastern Wyoming College.
1st Line by Danica Green
I spent the morning drinking Irish coffee out of my AA mug, trying to figure out whether it was ironic or apt.
Danica Green is a UK-based writer who lives in an attic and concussed herself on a beam earlier today. Also, the end of the 50 to 1 guidelines advised her to go outside, which she did, and got wet. Her work has appeared at 3AM Magazine and PANK and is scheduled to appear at Smokelong Quarterly, Eclectic Flash and Short, Fast and Deadly. Occasionally she does things here (http://danicagreen.webs.com/) and it's very exciting.
I spent the morning drinking Irish coffee out of my AA mug, trying to figure out whether it was ironic or apt.
Danica Green is a UK-based writer who lives in an attic and concussed herself on a beam earlier today. Also, the end of the 50 to 1 guidelines advised her to go outside, which she did, and got wet. Her work has appeared at 3AM Magazine and PANK and is scheduled to appear at Smokelong Quarterly, Eclectic Flash and Short, Fast and Deadly. Occasionally she does things here (http://danicagreen.webs.com/) and it's very exciting.
Fat Fish by KJ Hannah Greenberg
Lambert wished for fat fish every morning of his turn babysitting. Herpacia, however, not only meant to stay abroad, hunting deep waters and surfing, but had, as well, sent notice; she wouldn’t be returning. The zoo had space. Alone in their nest, the new father played polo with the egg.
In another lifetime, KJ Hannah Greenberg taught Feminist Sociology at Rider University. These days, she makes up stories. Look for Don't Pet the Sweaty Things, a compilation of seventy of Hannah's brief fictions, Bards and Sages Publishing, Mar. 2012.
Lambert wished for fat fish every morning of his turn babysitting. Herpacia, however, not only meant to stay abroad, hunting deep waters and surfing, but had, as well, sent notice; she wouldn’t be returning. The zoo had space. Alone in their nest, the new father played polo with the egg.
In another lifetime, KJ Hannah Greenberg taught Feminist Sociology at Rider University. These days, she makes up stories. Look for Don't Pet the Sweaty Things, a compilation of seventy of Hannah's brief fictions, Bards and Sages Publishing, Mar. 2012.
Territory by Sandra Ketcham
Three peacocks stand guard as a dog tiptoes toward a barn. Peering in, the dog's focus splits between a rain puddle in the far corner and a dancing bug, caught in a silver web to his right. Sensing the dog's distraction, the peacocks attack. Fur and feathers fill the barn.
Sandra Ketcham currently lives in Orlando where she works as a full-time freelance writer and editor. She has fiction forthcoming in Gone Lawn and LITSNACK & poetry recently published or forthcoming in Bicycle Review, Anemone Sidecar, Red Booth Review, Counterexample Poetics and others. Sandra has a strong aversion to llamas.
Three peacocks stand guard as a dog tiptoes toward a barn. Peering in, the dog's focus splits between a rain puddle in the far corner and a dancing bug, caught in a silver web to his right. Sensing the dog's distraction, the peacocks attack. Fur and feathers fill the barn.
Sandra Ketcham currently lives in Orlando where she works as a full-time freelance writer and editor. She has fiction forthcoming in Gone Lawn and LITSNACK & poetry recently published or forthcoming in Bicycle Review, Anemone Sidecar, Red Booth Review, Counterexample Poetics and others. Sandra has a strong aversion to llamas.
Ambush by Greg Kuehn
The daisy chain exploded and they were upon us. The rusty copper stench of blood lingered amongst other smells: cordite, CLP, gunpowder, fear. We pushed through like white bloods cells through influenza, shooting and maneuvering. And when the fog cleared, we buried our dead and honored them with our lives.
Greg Kuehn writes literary fiction and Southern literature. He is currently a senior English education major University of Tennessee at Chattanooga. Upon completion of his degree he plans to pursue a career as a high school English teacher, a soccer coach and a writer. Mr. Kuehn served eight years in the United States Marine Corps and deployed to Iraq twice before receiving an honorable discharge in April 2011. His website is www.greg-kuehn.com.
The daisy chain exploded and they were upon us. The rusty copper stench of blood lingered amongst other smells: cordite, CLP, gunpowder, fear. We pushed through like white bloods cells through influenza, shooting and maneuvering. And when the fog cleared, we buried our dead and honored them with our lives.
Greg Kuehn writes literary fiction and Southern literature. He is currently a senior English education major University of Tennessee at Chattanooga. Upon completion of his degree he plans to pursue a career as a high school English teacher, a soccer coach and a writer. Mr. Kuehn served eight years in the United States Marine Corps and deployed to Iraq twice before receiving an honorable discharge in April 2011. His website is www.greg-kuehn.com.