April 2, 2018

Sarina Dorie’s New Novel, “Witches Gone Wicked: Womby’s School for Wayward Witches”

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Sarina Dorie’s New Novel, “Witches Gone Wicked: Womby’s School for Wayward Witches”

Editor’s Note: We’re pleased and honored to publish a two-part excerpt from Sarina Dorie’s latest novel here at the Café. The third in her “Womby’s School for Wayward Witches” series, [click to visit her website for more details]  it’s a wonderful story, immediately engaging, skillfully mixing fantasy with reality. In short, Sarina is a really great storyteller! Chapters 1 and 2 appear here today, and Chapters 3 and 4 tomorrow. Here is a synopsis: You think you know the world of magical boarding schools?  Not from a teacher’s perspective at a school for at risk youth. Witches Gone Wicked: Womby’s School for Wayward Witches is a whimsical urban fantasy. Like any twenty-two-year-old who grew up obsessed with fantasy novels, Clarissa Lawrence expects all her Harry Potter fantasies to come true when she is invited to…

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March 28, 2018

“A Poet of Sorts” by Rashmi Prakash

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“A Poet of Sorts” by Rashmi Prakash

Here is a lovely, reflective poem for you today. I. Cross, out-of-sorts at odds, always in want of a better word I’m a poet of sorts.   Crucified on the cross- roads of time and purpose I stand and ponder: if the road I’m on   is less traveled or more? Cars spin 360 degrees below, as I watch from my Ivory Tower   40 feet above is enough too much reality is not good for me. I’m fussy.   I don’t like to get my feet dirty. Head planted firmly in the clouds I take great strides   across the seven seas. Cross deserts; climb peaks. Sometimes, I’m seen millions of light years away.   I straddle both worlds. Clearly, I’ve businesses of my own to attend. Philosopher at large   sage, devil, demigod…

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March 26, 2018

“The Potter,” A Short Story by Cheree Mann

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“The Potter,” A Short Story by Cheree Mann

  The seventh-floor studio apartment in the Soho District of New York was $4,000 a month and had been vacant for three months. The previous renter was an artist and left everything behind. He had 220 wiring installed for his kiln, which sat proudly on high-temp blocks. The electric potter’s wheel sat wanting for attention and shelves lined the north wall that still displayed thrown bisque-fired pots patiently waiting for their glazing. The west wall held an apartment-sized refrigerator, sink and small granite countertop that presented a hot plate, coffee pot, and a mug tree, which held a single cup. Bare wooden slats squeaked under the pressure of footsteps, dusty from layers of dried clay splashed on the floor. The greatest attribute of the studio was the windows. Total glass along the east side allowed…

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March 20, 2018

“The Unexpected Gift” by Jennifer Gaye Peterson

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“The Unexpected Gift” by Jennifer Gaye Peterson

The sound of whispers and shuffling feet fell from the welcoming side of a dark burgundy curtain. Its mass was hung and stretched across the full width of an auditorium stage. Hidden behind its thickness was Samantha, sitting nervously, at a baby grand piano. She was silently rehearsing a selected piece of music in her head while at the same time trying desperately to block out the noise. It was the night of the eighth annual music recital at Benton Junior High School, and her first time to play in front of a large audience. Slowly, the heavy curtain opened with a lazy glide across the stage floor. The snapping sound from the spotlight quickly broke her concentration and instantly engulfed her. Frozen and unable to move, the sound of her pounding fear grew louder…

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March 13, 2018

“Jolly Old Fellow” and Other Poems by Robert Joe Stout

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“Jolly Old Fellow” and Other Poems by Robert Joe Stout

Hotel Doorman Passes the Time of Day, Mexico City  “New, that one’s suit, bargain sale somewhere but see, the woman with him: style, not ‘a la moda,’ just herself…and him? chingada! beltless jeans, baseball cap, leftist for sure (they’re all alike), that one hiding fat with shawls, ah! look, politician—silk shirt, chin shaved so close it shines (narcos buy Rolex watches, Chargers t-shirts, whores wear open shoulder blouses, spandex pants), banker that one, necktie with a bit of swirl (see the clasp?) and here? aerobic miss (who else could wear jeans that tight?) Faces lie but clothes? Clothes don’t hide what people want to hide. “   Lennon, after the First Hamburg Tour Drank orange juice, ate eggs his foster mother fried, watched re-runs on the telly, sketched obscene cartoons. Beyond the ironed curtains, Naugahyde,…

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