Browsing All Posts filed under »– Welcome To Subtle Fiction«

mat byerly

July 10, 2017

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In My Head             I sit at my desk, with a pen and a notebook, which is surprisingly blank. No sound is in the air. No sound is in my head, just empty and useless. I need an idea. I have a deadline (tomorrow of all days).             Okay, I think I got it. I’ll […]

Fred Vogel

July 3, 2017

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David Trolley After completing a one-hour mescaline-induced version of Neil Young’s “Down by the River” in the acoustically-perfect bomb shelter at his parent’s hilltop home overlooking the benign San Fernando Valley, David Trolley threw up all over his girlfriend, Sarah, as well as into his brand new Martin guitar. Those were the wasted days. Goodbye, […]

Kyle Foley

June 26, 2017

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the west virginian i obtain a position at a motel. i work the front desk during night shift. i seem to inhabit an alternative dimension, one mired in confusica, one kidnapped by bewildermento. i feel exiled from the norm, the energy levels are subnormal. the travelers are often gnarled by the night’s rough-hounds, enshadowed by […]

Fred Vogel

June 19, 2017

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Pieces of Things Fall After graduating from NYU’s School of the Arts, Seth took classes at The American Mime Theater, with the goal of becoming a professional mime, much to the chagrin of his father, Wyatt. While still on speaking terms with the public, Seth waited tables at a popular Greenwich Village bistro, while his […]

Robert Boucheron

June 12, 2017

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Do You Want to Talk? I’m here to listen. An open ear and a shoulder to cry on, if need be. Nonjudgmental, as silent as the grave. You know me. After all, we’ve been friends for gosh knows how long, six or seven years? Or if not exactly friends, neighbors. The morning after the moving […]

Samuel Cole

June 5, 2017

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The Governor’s Table It was a magnificent table. Which is why I hated it, and chose to make it suffer. My father built it from a large maple tree that his father-in-law, my grandpa, the scariest man I’ve ever encountered, dropped off in the backyard during the night. Much like my mother, my grandpa came […]

Genelle Chaconas

May 29, 2017

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Editor’s Pick Strip The slot in the black door. In one of the many velvet imagination closets. Sometimes you imagine yourself as series of caverns of unfulfilledness darkness. You can hold the oceans of space inside. And be filled. The solid gravitation. Black water unrippled as the dark moon. Sometimes you have imagined yourself an […]