Creative Colloquy is a submission based literary site.
It’s our aim to share the South Sound’s rich literary talents and foster relationships built upon our mutual admiration of the written word.
New Stories for 1/19/2015
Johnny Damon was dead.
his hair was
his feet were
but everyone in
Dead man swinging
and they knew
A beetle walked across the sill and he squashed it to feel its tiny exoskeleton crinkle flat. He held up his thumb to examine the iridescent shell in the sunlight. Beyond his thumb he caught sight of a woodchuck peeking out of its burrow in the orchard.
He hurried outdoors and cut across his mother’s garden, leaving a trail of bruised petals and broken stems. He filled a pitcher with water and rushed to the mound. The woodchuck saw him coming and ducked back into its hole.
Owen poured water into the burrow and kicked dirt over the opening. A smirk unhinged his mouth. “You’re a goner.”
A gray squirrel perched on a nearby wooden fence chittered at him.
It didn’t work. I didn’t get the happy ending you expect.
I never read What to Expect When You’re Expecting.
I was never expecting.
But I want to tell you my story: I want you to hear me.
We often stay silent.
It’s time to get loud.
Sylvia Zou, 1:26am: Are you asleep? This isn’t anything scary but could you call me?
Sylvia Zou, 2:34am: Okay possibly scary. Not about us but I’m freaking out right now. I feel really bad, and I think your phone is down and…fuck. I’d really love your help right now Megan. I know you hate it when people are touchy feely but you help me a lot sometimes
2 Missed Calls, 2:39am
Sylvia Zou, 2:55am: I’m a little better now. I still wanna talk though. Please. Not for any real reason, I think it would just calm me down, or something. I’m really sorry for this slew of texts. Uncool of me.