Creative Colloquy is a submission based literary site.
It’s our aim to share Tacoma’s rich literary talents and foster relationships built upon our mutual admiration of the written word.
A big thank you to all the contributors of our Indiegogo campaign. Watch for updates on Creative Colloquy Vol. 1 due out early November.
New Stories for 9/15/2014
After Sex by Jack Cameron
“Yes! Fuck me. Harder! Yes! Yes! Oh hell yeah, Nick! Just like that.” I’m sure the neighbors can hear her. And there was a time when this sort of thing would make me come in a heartbeat. But now I feel like I’m watching a movie. Karen comes hard and collapses on top of me. I feel the sweat on her back. She laughs as she looks around for something to clean up with. I think about who might be on Letterman tonight.
When did this happen? I remember when not just every thought but every decision I made in life was at least influenced by sex. And it wasn’t that long ago. Hell, I still had my collection of not too kinky porn on my hard drive. But when was the last time I looked at it?
She returns from the bathroom and hands me a warm washrag. I smile at this despite my lack of interest. I mean it’s not every girl who’s nice enough to hand you a warm washrag after sex. Usually you’re fumbling around for a stray sock or something.
Thankfully we’re well past the whole ‘Was it good for you?’ stage, but if she would have asked I would have lied and said it was great. It’s funny how some questions you stop asking because you already know the lie.
Excerpt of Nightlife Interrupted by Robert Hazelton
The game was a bust. Those punk ass brats were on it and my dice went on strike. I’ve never heard a ten-sided die tell me to fuck off in such a meaningful way. I had better luck with Ophelia and considering how our conversation went, I was doomed the second I sat down at the table. My poor minis and I should’ve bowed out after the first blow to my ego.
I wasn’t that smart.
At ten o’clock, I was brooding behind the counter over my failures when I really started to think about Ophelia. She was right about Meredith, I had no idea why I was made. The thing I didn’t know was what it mattered. What made it suspicious? More importantly, why was she so against vampires? I had no answers, only questions but fortunately, I knew someone who might be able to help me out.
Unfortunately, he hung out at Club Eternal. I was hoping Jade would already be gone by the time I got there but it was a big enough place that we probably wouldn’t run into each other. As long as my employees could be trusted to watch the shop, then everything would be fine. I rarely left and none of them were used to soloing it.
Bones by Ross Dohrmann
I’ll never forget those final days of Summer before He left and everything changed. He was always there, always, right after school He’d come home. During the summer, which He said is when the “dog days” are, it was even better because He didn’t go to school, so He could play and ruffle my neck like He always did. The last few days He was with me a lot, and laughing, and playing, and so much walking. Then one day He was sad and the next day He was gone.
They think we can’t keep track of time, but we can, we do. He left one year, and five months, and thirteen days ago. I knew He was going to go though. He’s left before, but I didn’t know it would be for one year, and five months, and thirteen days. I know when He’s going for a short time and when He’s going for a long time. When He goes for a short time He ruffles my neck and smiles, and points, and says to me, “Now, Bucko, you watch the house and take care of Mom.” Then I put my paw in his paw and He sits up straight, and then I sit up straight because He laughs and looks at me when I sit up straight, but I usually look at something else instead of Him. He didn’t do that one year, and five months, and thirteen days ago.
The third day before He left, I thought He was going to go for a short time because He started to put his things in bags, and He does that when He goes for a short time. I liked that day because He took me to the lake, and I like going to the lake because that’s where I swim. He put his things in bags for a while, and I sat close by and watched just in case He needed my help. After fifteen minutes there were too many bags, so I closed my eyes but didn’t sleep. He called my name and He had his ball glove. He looked at it, then at me, and put it in a bag, which made me happy because He likes playing ball and I like playing ball too.
Cheaters Never Prosper by Titus Burley
Manuel Enrique Ramos spun the AM dial to the sports super station. “Broadcasting from Baja, California to the Canadian Rockies” proclaimed the host, a man named Hacksaw who argued with callers from 8 p.m. until midnight. Manuel listened to escape, to hide from the sadness of Maria, her mourning of little Alfredo, lost to a fever that no amount of cold water soaked rags could put out; three years old, their frail middle child, four years younger than strong Alberto, two years older than sweet baby Lucinda. There would be no fourth child. Maria’s grief saw to that.
He tuned in the American stations as much for Alberto as himself. For the boy with the strong arm and smooth swing to have the chance, he needed the language gateway that only a grasp of English could provide.
Mystery words. Phrases Manuel would never understand. Too much for a man whose passion for life ended when the light had gone out of his wife’s eyes, when her womb closed. But a small coal glowed. A flickering hope smoldered. He smelled it in the old leather hand-me-down glove Alberto squeezed onto his left hand and he heard it in the words he did understand. Barry Bonds, Mark Maguire, Roger Clemens, Sammy Sosa. And numbers. Such big numbers. 66 home runs. 70 home runs. 73 home runs.