Oct/Nov 1998

e c l e c t i c a
f i c t i o n

Fiction


(These are excerpts—click on the title to view the whole piece!)
 

Desert Drip

Jim pulls up to the curb and shines his brights on me. Mexico fades into headlights. Can't see beyond the drops of rain falling before my eyes. Jim tries to pin me down this way. Shine a spotlight, and she's all yours. I don't even blink.

Noel Ace
 

Walking to Deseret

To feel his gaze upon me was to know the joy of Samson—the pride of Samson—the hero of old who tore apart the body of a lion with his hands and who, after leaving it awhile and returning, found there within the carcass, a swarm of bees—a swarm of bees and rich, thick honey.

Stanley Jenkins
 

Boxcars Differently Traveling

A vision of Susan looms before me, her fine brown hair, her charcoal eyes, and rounded good-girl cheeks, which seem reservoirs of poise as they curve to meet her flat lipline. Suddenly she winces. A large hand has just swatted her hard on the ass. I drink in the sound, the taut smack, the straining hiss. I play the wince again, her mouth now contorted by a yelp. And then I'm Susan.

Paul Dubnor
 

Python Pat

Jack spent a little time then, in the office at the back of the house. He tried to think of Sue Pan naked, light brown, her little body, but she had seemed too sad when he had suggested dinner, and the memory of her sadness annoyed him. He snapped at a customer on the phone.

Alex Keegan
 

Message to the Writers Group

The elephants were right of course, but Noah knew that being right wasn't a valid reason for behaviour. "I'm sorry," he said, "What went on before the great flood is neither here nor there. We're in a closed environment and you are producing one hell of a lot of shit."

Alex Keegan
 

Balancing Act

In those days we were convinced that nuns slid straight down from the sky perfectly attired down to the silver rings on their left hands. That nuns could have mothers and those mothers, too, could wear short skirts, had not previously occurred to us.

Anjana Basu
 

Mary Anne's War

Sandy smiles and moves her leg closer to Mary Anne's. Their feet almost touch beneath the table but Sandy, squinting, pulls hers back and says, "You look familiar. Don't I know you?"

Pete Armstrong