**One of my microstories, Evie, was published on the Erotica Readers & Writers Association site

One of my more somber 200-word stories, Evie, will be published on the Erotica Readers & Writers Association website for the entire month of November.

While this R-rated, disturbing microstory, which explores childhood memories, death, emerging sexuality and hope, has brief carnal references in it, it isn’t what I, or most people, would call “erotica” – it reads more like a dark mature drama.

If this sounds like something that might interest you, check it out. =)

Let's trade

By Michael A. Kechula


“Can anybody hear me?”

“Yes!” exclaimed the radio operator for Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence, aka SETI. “Who – what – are you?”

“I’m the Emperor of Mars. I need your help. We have more dinosaurs than our planet’s ecosystem can support. Do you need any on your planet? We’d be happy to send you some.”

“Dinosaurs? I don’t think so.”

“Do you have any on your planet now?” asked the Emperor.

“No, they all died out long ago.”

“Then you don’t know what you’re missing. I’d be eternally grateful, if you’d take some off my hands. In fact, I’d be pleased to offer you an all expense paid, wonderful vacation on our planet if you accepted a few. This includes lodging at a suite in our best hotel, which is staffed by our most gorgeous and very friendly females.”

“Hmm. A vacation on Mars sounds fantastic,” SETI said. “What if we make a trade?”

“What do you have to offer?” asked the Emperor.

“Gorgeous rats.”

“What are they?”

“The most delightful creatures on Earth. You’ll love them. They’re quite delicious.”

“Sounds great! We’ll ship our dinosaurs tomorrow.”

The next day, six billion dinosaurs arrived on Earth in flying saucers. The same day, Earth dispatched six billion rats to Mars via UPS.

Earthlings were thrilled with their new, imported dinosaurs—until they discovered Martian dinosaurs had gargantuan appetites. They ate cars, airplanes, people, London, Africa, and everything else in sight. Then they ate each other. In six months, everything on Earth was gone, except for mountains of dinosaur dung.

The Emperor of Mars was ecstatic. He’d conquered Earth without firing a shot. And he’d received enough rats to feed his all his subjects for an entire year.


Copyright ©2011 Michael A. Kechula. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce in any form, including electronic, without the author’s express permission.

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If you like the above story, check out this Michael Kechula-penned tale, Ugly duckling, published on this site in December 2011.

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AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY

Michael A. Kechula’s flash/micro tales have appeared in 143 magazines and 43 anthologies. He's won eighteen writing contests. Four of his books are published as eBooks and paperbacks: A Full Deck of Zombies - 61 Speculative Fiction Tales; The Area 51 Option and 70 More Speculative Fiction Tales; I Never Kissed Judy Garland and Other Tales of Romance; Writing Genre Flash Fiction The Minimalist Way - A Self Study Book. Ebooks at www.BooksForABuck.com. Paperbacks at www.amazon.com.

**One of my poems, Our City of Darkness, was published on the Every Day Poets site

One of my mainstream (but bleak-humored) poems, Our City of Darkness, was published on the Every Day Poets site.

Check it out and leave a comment/star rating, if you're so inclined and have the time. =)

Nothing to be afraid of

By Cath Barton


It was a long way down. I didn’t dare go to the edge of the cliff like my friend.

“Come on, Sally,” Maggie shouted back to me, her words half-carried away by the wind. “It’s amazing. There must be fifty of them down there.”

A group of walkers coming the other way had told us about the seals down on the beach. There was no way that anyone could get down to that beach from the cliff path, and the seals evidently felt entirely safe. Unlike me. I was terrified. I’d never liked heights, and just the sight of someone else near the cliff edge gave me the jitters.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of.” As Maggie’s words reached me, she disappeared, over the edge. My heart juddered and my head spun.

I sank to the ground, shaking. I lay down and, fingertip by fingertip, dragged myself on my belly towards the point where the world disappeared. It was painful, slow. My body didn’t want to obey the instructions from my brain. I inched toward the edge, my eyes shut.

I have no idea how long it was before I opened my eyes. My blood thudded in my ears, a cold sweat lay on my brow. All the fears of all the worlds were in me.

Something shifted. The shift took the terror with it and I knew that there truly was nothing to be afraid of. The earth, the cliff, the sea and even the sheer drop below me were my friends. I started laughing in relief. Then I rolled, over the edge.

Nothing hurt, and I knew it hadn’t hurt Maggie either.


Copyright ©2011 Cath Barton. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce in any form, including electronic, without the author’s express permission.

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AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY

Cath Barton is a singer, writer and photographer who lives in South Wales. Her work is published here and there, notably in Fractured West, the Leaf Books Anthology Pod and 100 Stories for Queensland. You can see her exhibition of photographs of Wales at www.camelsaloonwales.blogspot.com.

**One of Basil Rosa's stories, "Boss Visa," was published in new anthology, A Small Key Opens Big Doors

One of Basil Rosa's stories, "Boss Visa," was published in a new anthology, A Small Key Opens Big Doors - Volume Three: The Heart of Eurasia.

According to Basil, the anthology, edited by Jay Chen, "focuses on Eurasia, and is one of a four-volume series, with each volume focused on a different part of the globe, all of them celebrating the 50th anniversary of the Peace Corps. Sales of the book go to help fund the work of the Peace Corps in developing nations."

Check it out, if you're so inclined and/or have the time!

If you're interested in more of Basil's work, also check out his website and his haunting story, He held on and she kept saying time to go, published on the Microstory site on October 5, 2011.

guardian angel {sorta}

By dani harris


Once I was an angel
whose wings were so white
every color could be seen within;
my hair and halo shone gold at night
with lips of pink and eyes of blue ~
I truly was a heavenly sight.
{ahem… well, that’s what I was told.}

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One day God spoke to me: “I AM SENDING YOU TO EARTH TO BE GUARDIAN ANGEL FOR HUMANITY. YOU ARE NOT TO INTERFERE! MERELY SEND ME QUARTER-CENTURY REPORTS.”

“But Lord,” said I, “Do you really think I’m the right angel for this assignment? After all, I have no experience with humans.” {Peter and I had a thing goin’ on, you know?}

“TAKE THIS ROSE ~ SO LONG AS IT REMAINS PURE WHITE ALL IS GOING ACCORDING TO MY PLANS. IF IT TURNS DARK, I WILL HAVE TO VISIT ANOTHER FLOOD UPON THE EARTH.”

I didn’t even have time to give Peter a proper goodbye.

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God sent me down to Earth to keep tabs on
…I mean, watch over…
the Earth and humans and all ~
time passed quickly for I had much to discover.

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One day Peter came to visit but I would have none of it,
feeling he could have come earlier if he really cared a whit.

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“Rose” said he
looking aghast at me,
“It can’t be true…
is that really you?”
“Whatever do you mean?” I queried innocently.
“Where once your wings were white
they’re now as dark as night;
what’s happened to your golden hair?
I’d suggest a bottle of Loreal hair dye if I dare… (after all, you’re worth it!)
judging by the color of your halo, you’ve fallen short.”
{It was here I couldn’t help but snort!}
“My God, your reputation will be completely shred
if you return to Heaven with lips that red!
Pray tell what happened, my still lovely Rose,
please say that this is not what you chose!”

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“It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.
You said I’m lovely so I know you’re not blind ~
aren’t you attracted to my new earthly charms?
Don’t you want to take me into your arms?”

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Shaking his head, Peter plucked the now-gray rose from my fingers.

“When Father hears about this, you’ll find no refuge!
Not on Earth or in Heaven or even in Hell.”
Walking away, I whispered “Après moi le déluge.”
{after me, the deluge.}


Copyright ©2011 dani harris. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce in any form, including electronic, without the author’s express permission.

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This story was originally published on the my heart's love songs site on August 30, 2011.

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If you like this story, check out dani’s other stories, published on this site: Bugged, Camellia and haboob {another creepy tail}.

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AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY

dani {not a boy} began writing poetry in January 2010, opened her blog my heart's love songs in February 2010 and is now venturing into prose, though terrified. It seems her terror manifests itself in much of the prose, becoming a short tale with an element of horror or fantasy. Despite her blog's title, Dani does not write only haiku. Her sensual poetry is never too explicit whatever the length.

**One of my microstories, Behind the wheel, 2006, was published on the Leodegraunce site

One of my mainstream microstories, Behind the wheel, 2006, was published on the Leodegraunce site today. It will be up on the site until next Sunday (10/16/11).

This story is a semi-autobiographical work, about an interstate road trip I took in February 2006.

Check it out, if you have the time and/or are so inclined. =)

He held on and she kept saying time to go

By Basil Rosa


The burn that is time, how it changes, lifts, empowers and forgives.

Simmering with her, flash after flash filling the sky over his valley, she buckles and creaks and sways with him. He remembers her falling against the best he could offer, the princely stir of his young bones.

She’d said, Hold me tighter, visit these caves within me. Discover what guides my Indians. Let me be, please, because the others, they won’t. If you love me, you’ll let me be.

He remembers holding her in a plague of nightmares. It was her sky that night, her valley home.

So much of her haunts him – the way her eyes filled with lightning at twilight. The way crickets rose in her sheets when she chirped against him. Winter carving them down to skeletal stillness. Spring swells, flood after flood, into their loins.

The times she leaned on him as if he was a staff. A biblical scope to epic tales they imagined together lost in silences found while watching the horizon alter.

Alone now, making the arrangements in his head, his eyes ease down a far slope to a blanket of green unrolling to the next line of spare hills, down a cow path sodden with hoof prints and manure. Through a gate, creaking. Silent line of shadow from a passing hawk. A few crows squawking into panic, fleeing their brown pasture edges.

He seldom knows deer are close until they flee, scenting him first, and this time is no different. How the doe faces him on the path. Young, it’s never been hunted. He faces the doe the way he faced her in the early days of their courtship, both of them in all innocence ready for winter to ice away evening soul in their eyes.

Lovers they were, and lovers they’d remain. Hadn’t a clue she’d be the one taken first, who’d eventually say enough, please, let the doctors set me free.

He lifts the rifle, holds the doe in its sight, recalling the way she held him, shivering in drafts from that window. Flickering rain pelting their tin roof.

I’m here, yes, this does seem a nightmare. But it will end.

Her quiet acceptance, his recalcitrance – dewy cheeks against his beard. What were these memories trying to teach?

He lowers the rifle. The doe bounds away. He hears her again: I have to let you go.

He raises the rifle. She told him one day he’d know pain was good, and necessary . Love is not an incomplete recipe of expectations, impatience, folly and lust. It’s so much simpler than that.

She kept his picture from when he was just a boy. He’d always be a boy.

He squeezes the trigger.


Copyright ©2011 Basil Rosa. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce in any form, including electronic, without the author’s express permission.

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AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY


Basil Rosa is the pen name of John Flynn, who has published books of poetry, short stories, and translations from the Romanian of Nicolae Dabija. John's first novel, Heaven Is A City Where Your Language Isn't Spoken, is forthcoming this fall, 2011, from Cervena Barva Press. To read more of John's published work, please vist his web site at www.basilrosa.com.

**One of my stories, Nightwired, was published on the Every Night Erotica site

One of my erotica/romance fluff pieces, Nightwired, an homage to longtime love and black [occult] metal (specifically King Diamond), was published on the Every Night Erotica site.

Check it out, and, if you feel compelled, leave a star rating/comment!