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 November 1st.
New Stories for 9/1/2014
Red by Melissa Thayer
The gun was clean. Loaded. Double-checked. His knife, the one he had carried always, she held a moment before strapping it to her belt. There were five who must die today. Outside her blinded window, dawn was about to break over the minarets. The muezzin sing-songed beckonings to adhan.
The men who took him last night hadn’t seen her. His body would not get cold before she enacted her revenge. The first was Gadi. He was a whore-lover. The second was Azzam, he had a scar across his face from his penchant for bar fights. Zero was famously addicted to opium. Marid sold carpets at the bazaar. Jibril was a gambler. Despite the call the adhan, she knew the hypocrites wouldn’t be among the crowds.
She holstered the gun, wrapped her face in a red scarf, and took to the dark streets. They had no idea who they had awakened. First stop, Madame Khalidah’s. She slipped in past the incensed parlor, whispering her question to the madame on the whereabouts of Gadi. The carpeted stairs hushed her steps, down the hall, third door on the left. She eased the door open. He was sleeping naked on the couch with a sweaty whore. He awoke to the pressure of the barrel against his temple.
She would never feel her lover’s lips again.
Insomnia by Saeed Tavakkol
“Don’t. Don’t make a move. Let me crush you right on the spot. You’ll be punished for invading my privacy in the middle of the night. I declared his death sentence with a swatter in my hand, but the fly on the wall wasn’t scared at all. He was mocking me with his repulsive compound eyes the very moment I issued the death warrant. The second I raised my hand, he flew off the wall and crashed into the window glass, and circled the room like a maniac. I patiently waited for the right time.
After the maneuver, he landed on the curtain rod and I took the rare opportunity to jump off the ground to strike him down. Sure enough, I missed the bastard embarrassingly so I sat to contemplate my next move. Why would a little fly make it mission in life to torment me in the middle of the night? We both knew there was no way out. The door was shut and windows closed; one of us had to fall tonight.
As I was fantasizing the creative ways to destroy my enemy, the insect callously opened another front in the war and suddenly flew right into my face. A split second before clocking me in the eye, he changed his path and violently circled around my head. Now the only way to strike him down was to punch my own face. This charade had gone long enough.
The Valley of Nowhere by Lorna McGinnis
The long gray road
Smeared with tire streaks—
The transient traces
Of those racing through,
In search of off ramps.
Cars hurtling towards the mountains,
Sketched against the coming hours.
The False Start by The Red Hat Man (Craig Rounds)
Mr. Good Employee got up this morning, got dressed in his good employee uniform, made sure he had his ear plugs, pens and a smile on his face. He left for work, as had been arranged clear back on Friday.
Mr. Good Employee gets to work before he said he would be there. He checks the doors and all six of them are locked, the garage door is down. He sees the lights of the office are on like someone has been in there recently. But nothing is happening. No orders for deliveries are on the table. Someone has already been and gone.
Mr. Good Employee calls the national office to find a phone number for the other driver to find out if there really is enough work for two. Of course there is no real phone list with an easy solution. The national office cannot just give out the employee’s phone number. But they do have it, they call him and then they connect Mr. Good Employee with his coworker. Once connected, after five minutes of chatter, the answer is Mr. Coworker wants all the deliveries, has already left the shop and doesn’t need any help. Mr. Good Employee can go home.
Mr. Good Employee is now becoming pissy.
I Love the Mythology of Monsters Emerging by M. Morford
We dig into the earth as if it was ours to dissect,
Our machines and unleashed greed
Take us far past where our sense would take us.
Nothing is sacred when nothing is held back.
In these hands, and under these eyes,
Peace is as fragile and elusive as sleep.