By Terveen Gill I’m the one who comes drunk to the party. But I never leave drunk. Why? Because I usually pass out midway. Yes, embarrassing. I doubt it’ll be any different today. Still at home, I’m four drinks down, the fifth almost done, the sixth is coming with me. My driver honks furiously. I… Leer más Cheers to Me!
By mrobins71 All the years of building a persona. All the years of constructing a character. All the laborious Saturday nights, alone, with bottles and stacks of books and music and films gathered from the library. Obscure stuff, of course. Edgy stuff. Artsy and avant-garde stuff that nobody but me, I imagined, knew about. By… Leer más Goodbye, Persona
Masticadores has crossed the figure of 184,000 visits from January to September and with this we will meet the appointment of 250,000 annual visits, we have gained 100 thousand visits in one year. We can say that spending a number of visits with only two long years is still fantastic news. There are 15 blogs,… Leer más Thanks!
A poem in Vietnamese by Lê Vĩnh Tài Translator: Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm Art: Đinh Trường Chinh đi qua chiến tranh by Đinh Trường Chinh words of a wheat field 1. I am wheat I cry, I am crying once again they have left your death at my feet oh why, why would we cry… Leer más words of a wheat field
By Olga Nuñez Hi all: I bring you a book by an author I discovered thanks to Rosie Amber’s Book Review Team and one that has become a firm favourite. And I love this series, so… how could I resist? I want to live in Little Sister! Life on Little Sister Island is idyllic. Until… Leer más #ReviewsBook: THE NEW SHORE (Little Sister Island Book 3) by Caren J. Werlinger. The magic of Little Island is back, stronger than ever #RBRT #LGBT
By Michele Lee My Mr. Siri has developed a new and annoying habit the last few weeks. He pretends to not hear me when I ask him a question. “Hey, Siri. Hey, Siri. HEY, SIRI!” He must be watching a game. Maybe I need to put on a cheerleading costume and shake my poms poms… Leer más Sirious Crush (follow-up)
four nights ago one of the plastic dumpsters caught fire and kept burning until morning it offered light and warmth and the best part… as it grew ever smaller with melting, it resembled a statuette of a female figure licking lustfully at it’s own hands joined in prayer It would’ve been a sin not to… Leer más dumpster fire by Bogdan Dragos
By Terveen Gill The dark glasses and the invisible cloak of ‘stay away from me’. We all wore them in some way or the other when we first entered this white-walled hall. It was a cleansing ground. A place for gradually dismissing the burdens we carried – whiten those blackened souls. Some did it better… Leer más I Don’t Know What it’s like to be You
By Sebastian Iturralde September 23, 2022|Short Story A Little Spark of Adventure Samwy struck the chisel with his hammer. With each blow, a chunk of rock broke free from the wall. Little fragments fell to the sides of his metal feet. Samwy was a creature of fire that resided on the border between the Elemental… Leer más A Little Spark of Adventure
By Jane Aguiar (site:https://meandmyliterature.wordpress.com/) Sometimes you bring drizzling rain Sometimes you shine brightly Sometimes you are a swirling spring, Beautiful feathers of peacock, shimmering serial in the sky and a wet moonlit night Even though you know, you don’t know Seen but not seen A puzzle in my life Still, you’re in my eyelids Sometimes… Leer más A Mirage In My Life…#Poetry
Yulia Vasiltsova, called Black & White Heart if of any use as illustration.… Leer más LANA by Steve Clark
that love is a strange thing we need not remind ourselves again too much has been said about the damn thing and not enough has been felt we’re not getting anywhere like that, are we? Rather than talk about it just allow yourself to feel Maybe go out, open the trunk of your car and… Leer más still playing by Bogdan Dragos
Hold on. I can’t find my glasses.’ I was blind without them. ‘You’re dead. You don’t need them.’ He had a point. But I was so used to wearing them. Felt naked without them. ‘You’re already naked.’ He could read my thoughts. That was discomforting. But he was the Grim Reaper, the transporter of souls.… Leer más Hell is a Typo By Terveen Gill
The genius of a fool is self-evident to half of his kind. To all others, his genius is the apparent prattling of a fool. To all those who follow, their fool’s wisdom is genuine wealth. To all others, it is Fool’s Gold. Sometimes the genius of the exalted fool is pyrite. For the other set… Leer más Pyrite
(Blog) A poem in Vietnamese by Đinh Trường Chinh Translator: Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm Thơ at I-95 going the distance through sections of the forest clatter of dusk stints of rain go go through all that past father was a mountain mother was just there a cloud in passing – dusk drifting seamlessly through the… Leer más Thơ at I-95
By Michele Lee Never underestimatethe quiet ones–the same traitthat hushes their tongueis their superpowerin a world full of loud voicesclamoring to be number one. ************* I have listenedI have agreedI have noddedI have concededI have followedI have retreatedI have let others interruptI have had enough ************* Patience may be a virtuethat can save relationships,reputations, and… Leer más A Quiet Progression
By equinoxio21 I needed to escape. The memories and the pressure were… too much. I’d come back to Nairobi from a tough assignment, covering civil unrest (PC for hidden-under-the-carpet civil war) in the north of Kenya, spending weeks in the bush. I’d been trying to get an interview with the rebel chief, whom, of course,… Leer más Crows
She pointed at the big hole in her ear lobe. “Yeah, I tried putting a horn through it. Real piece of horn from a bull, by the way. But problem was, after I got it in, well, it just didn’t look as cool as I thought it would. It didn’t look like a horn. More… Leer más a big hole in the ear lobe by Bogdan Dragos
By Terveen Gill ‘Sara darling. Are you happy? Please tell me.’ Max reached for his wife’s hand. Sara gazed out the window, Max’s touch brought her nothing. No warmth. Not a shred of comfort. She could hardly feel the man’s hand upon her cold skin. The view outside was overwhelming. It had always been her… Leer más Are You Happy? Please Tell Me
by mikesteeden This piece was written in the beautiful cobblestone town of Montreuil, Northern France in the summer of 2013 after noticing a disabled young lady struggling in her wheelchair, much like the girl in this brief tome. Outside a cafe, a tear, a pen and a notebook later I had a tale to tell.… Leer más THE MAN IN THE BRETON SHIRT
Gobblers & Masticadores 