I'm SO grateful to all who submitted art and gave permission to post. I'm excited to show you all off! There are some really great things here. Please enjoy the art-stroll, and if you still have something you'd like to share, I'll be more than happy to stick you in! Just email me - email@example.com
Spencer and Ben Allred
"Allred-y Films" on Discombobulate TV:
You're Scaring the Ducks
By Alisha Geary:
Rise through darkest slime,
extract of fear—eager demons
claw. I slide through the grasp
of talons—shards of shadows with
raw red edges.
Words echo, scream, sing, dig
at soulstring’s tender
Evil lurks, breathes in curl of ear
sits on shoulder, stains footprints
that try to rise
and shatter like light streaming in through
Getting My Mouth Washed Out
Once my grandmother got very angry
when I argued with her.
I was a five year old
who did not know her place.
So she told me to open my mouth
and then she put a bar of soap inside.
Forty-six years later,
I still remember
that awful taste.
But I didn't stop arguing
with her or anyone else.
I've argued with teachers, parents,
rabbis, politicians, and bosses
if they try to limit my freedom
or curtail other people's rights.
I've lived long enough
to see some reforms.
So here's my advice
to other rebellious kids:
If someone threatens you
with a bar of soap,
keep talking so fast
that no one can ever wedge
a stopper in your mouth.
Copyright Michigan Reading Journal, 2009; rpt. in Janet Ruth Heller, Traffic Stop (Finishing Line Press, 2011); rpt. in Janet Ruth Heller, Folk Concert: Changing Times (Anaphora Literary Press, 2012).
Alicia VanNoy Call:
Short story you can read or listen to the audio recording at WileyWriters online:
Mom pulled us out of school the day before the attack. She told us to get our handhelds, favorite holo discs, bedding, clothes, books even. She took us down to The Cave. That’s what we called it back when Dad was building it, when I was little. Down under the house, through tunnels, a vertical ladder and a two-door airlock. We hadn’t been down there since it was finished.
“Maybe we’ll never have to use it,” I remember Dad saying. But he and Mom had looked at each other in a way that said, Maybe. Maybe not.........