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Weekly Contest #123
Friendships Like Flowers by E. Ray Morse John Herlihy stood at the edge of the stage, the only sign of human life at the off-off-Broadway venue, the Vineyard Theater. Onstage, a single Ghost Light illuminated Herlihy’s lean body, casting a shadow with hands in pockets and a steady straight mid-Western posture. Glancing down and out at the empty, burgundy-colored seats, Herlihy drew in a deep breath. The stale flavor of lamp-heated dust and stage make-up traveled through his nostrils and into his mouth. He loved it...
Pigeon Crumbs Eric Maynard (Contains adult language and adult themes) I sat up in bed one night while Heather slept and concluded that I didn’t know her anymore. I studied her stomach, her abdomen, her breathing rhythms and the in and out of air and her slight wheeze. I didn’t recognize her anymore. In the glow of her blue Himalayan salt lamp on her nightstand, she was younger than her 41 years. She called it her “calming lamp,” but I called it a fake. A cheat. Her body, it was changing. S...
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