Coal

by Anna Desourdy

Anna Desourdy is a pre-school teacher, wife, and mother to two boys and a miniature dachshund.  She and her family live on about ten acres in a small suburb of Charlotte, North Carolina. In addition to writing, Anna enjoys reading any and all genres, perusing Instagram and Litsy, contributing to the Wattpad community, cooking, gardening, traveling, and spending time with family and friends, particularly going out with her boys to explore the wonderful things their city has to offer.

It was such a trivial encounter.  It should’ve been meaningless really.  It was meaningless.  And yet she would find herself thinking about him quite a bit, sometimes constantly.  At first she had convinced herself it was some sort of collusion of the stars, fate, that good old meant-to-be feeling.  She’d seen him, been completely struck.  She’d thought about him all day, allowing her poor luck to weigh her down as though she were carrying an anvil in her pocket.  And then it had happened again.  It was as if her mind had manifested him to give her heart one last squeeze before sending it on its miserable way.  Then nothing.  One moment it was a monsoon in the desert, the tiny flower that grows in the city sidewalk, the baby turtle crossing the length of the beach.  And the next it was dry as it had ever been, crushed under a hurried designer wingtip, snapped up by a seagull flying overhead.

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Two by Amanda Tumminaro

Amanda Tumminaro lives in the U.S. She is a poet and short story writer and her work has been featured in Thrice Fiction, The Radvocate and Stickman Review, among others. Her first poetry chapbook, “The Flying Onion,” will be released through The Paragon Journal in the spring of 2018. 

 

Portrait of Emotions

Emotions are as important as organs,
and just as susceptible to danger.
They are a jury and victim to words,
target to rocks and dagger.

So, the country of what I feel
is based on belief and not fact.
It all comes down to if it’s logical,
and if you shall believe the logic.

They are not subject to x-ray,
and can be distorted by convenience,
and morphed by time or theme,
traveling with me like a third ear.

 

Mother at a Concession Stand

Before the showing of the film,
I stand at the counter with my brood.
Which candy would suit me best?

The stand is lit up like a bulb.
Okay! I choose our destiny:
A soda, popcorn and Milk Duds.

I’m a few dollars short,
and now it’s like Sophie’s Choice;
Which child to sacrifice?

 

 

Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff

Well, actually we would prefer it if you did.  It’s not easy to fit a great story or poem into a tear drop.  But, if you can do that, it makes for some great storytelling.

So, go ahead and sweat a little. And submit the results to us.

Relationships

by Mia Carreon
Mia Carreon is currently working on her BFA in Creative Writing while still dabbling in directing plays and teaching theater to children and teens in El Paso, TX. She also has a love for movies and television that has helped fuel her creativity since she was a kid. 

A: Adrien is the bus boy at the local cafe. In high school we had three classes together. He’d always sleep. On graduation day he skipped out and didn’t walk. Turns out his grade average was a C-. People say that’s why he’s still a bus boy.

B: Bethany is my next door neighbor. Her arthritis acts up when it gets cold and she pays me $5 every time I help her with groceries. She has old ribbon candy in her front room and I tried it out of curiosity. It was disgusting.

C: Claudia sits next to me on a long bus ride to California. We discuss our families and friends. I tell her about visiting my cousin, Katia. She says she’s visiting her brother and his kids. They live on only $80 a week.

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What Do You See?

by Jamie Whyte
Raised in Miami, FL by Jamaican parents and a beloved older brother. Mr. Whyte has held many jobs but has been a teacher for well over 10 years. He desperately tries to remain positive as a way of coping with life. 

What do you see?
Am I holding up the tree or is the tree holding up me?
Understand that perspective is not always the same
some find things pleasurable while others only feel pain
I say it’s hot today, she says it’s fine
Kids are not ready for bed, Mom says it’s time.
People are all different, various details we see
It may be much older but the tree supports me

“Think Small”

It was the advertising slogan for the Volkswagon Beetle developed by the  Doyle Dane Bernbach agency in 1959.  Since then, it has been called the single best advertising campaign of the 20th Century.

We think it fits us perfectly.

We think small as in Small Literature

It’s been called micro fiction, flash fiction, tiny fiction and cigarette fiction.  Early on, these stories were called short shorts or even ultra shorts.  You may have your own name for it: bite-sized fiction or fun-sized fiction.

Call it what you will, it is a short story made even more so.  Flash fiction is to stories what haiku is to poetry: a world in a drop of water.

Get rid of any fluff.  Be ruthless in your editing.  Distill it down to its essence and then distill it again.  Get to the point.  Get to the point, now.

Fair enough.  Some people start with an ending or goal.  Others start with a great line or image and work from there.

However you do it, whatever your style, we are interested in seeing your work.  If you have a story to tell, consider sending it to us.  We will publish the best on our website.

We are also looking for short poetry and will even consider short plays for publication.

The Blue Towel

by Scott Hogan
Scott Hogan holds a BA in Philosophy from UC Berkeley and an MA in English from SUNY StonyBrook.  He currently teaches math at a big public high school.

My name is Bill.  I live with my roommate Chris in a senior housing apartment.  We have a 2 bedroom, 2 bath apartment.  I live in one room and have my own bath and Chris lives in the other room with his own bathroom.  Both are upstairs.

I was on a list for senior housing for over a year.  Of the 100 units available around the city, nearly 500 seniors are on a waiting list.  You get on a waiting list and only get an apartment when someone dies or someone moves out and lives with their relatives or family.  Senior housing takes 1/3rd of your income, whether you are on social security or something else.  My rent of $600 a month includes utilities and cable.

There’s a problem with Chris.  He’s a slob.  When I first moved in, I knew right away something was wrong.  I don’t go to bed without doing my dishes but Chris leaves his dirty dishes in the sink for days on end.  He sleeps on the couch downstairs.  He doesn’t sleep in his bedroom upstairs.  After a few months, I noticed the smell of his pillow on the coach.  It got so bad I put it outside and he kept asking me “Where is my pillow?” I told him I put it outside to air out the smell.

The blue towel.  Well, one day, soon after I moved in, I found a blue towel hanging in my bathroom.  It went well with the plastic blue dolphins on the shower curtain.  The blue towel was his.  I told Chris I didn’t want the blue towel in my bathroom and moved it out and put it in the linen closet.  The next day the blue towel was back in my bathroom.  Chris told me he liked the look of his blue towel in my bathroom.

A few days later I put the blue towel in the linen closet and locked it in there.  I locked my bedroom and the bathroom too.  I came home from work and found the blue towel back in the bathroom.  He had unlocked the closet and my bathroom.

I had had enough.  I took the blue towel and locked it in the trunk of my car.  Chris kept asking me “Where is my blue towel?” and I told him “Don’t worry, it’s in good hands.”

This is the same guy who asked me if they speak Italian in Italy when we watched a travel show.

Cowboy Poetry

Rue Scribe is the online literary journal for Underwood Press.  Our main literary journal, Underwood, is currently in its pre-publication stage.  It should reach publication sometime this fall.

We’ve always had a soft spot for Cowboy poetry.   In addition to Underwood, the Press is working up a second publication that focuses specifically on Cowboy and Western themed literature and poetry.  If you’ve got it, we would love to see it.

Yahoo!

In the meantime, we’ll provide you with a sample by Adam Arneson.

A Constant Bout in My Mind

by Adam Arneson
Adam Arneson is a special education teacher by day and a bull rider when he’s got the nerve.  
Editor’s note: At Rue Scribe, we think the two occupations sort of complement one another.

A constant bout in my mind.
Do I watch or should I ride?
Anytime that I say no,
There’s something missing in my soul.
Every time that I say yes,
I put myself through this stress.

It’s me and God all the way,
But positive thoughts sometimes stray.
It’s not about what’s in the end,
I just want to nod my head.

One boot to the left – one to the right,
No more mind games – not tonight.
Here we are – no place to hide,
Others can watch – I will ride.

No Mas Secuestros

by Randy Surles

Randall Surles serves in the US Army.  He has deployed multiple times to Afghanistan and has more than 20 years experience living and working in South America.  He currently lives in Italy with his wife and two dogs, where he plans to finish his MFA in Creative Writing. 

 

 

The visual poem here by Randall Surles, entitled “No Mas Secuestros,” was a bit tricky to post due to it’s colors and arrangement and the format limitations within the web host.  In the end, we decided to upload it as an image rather than as a text entry.  We hope we did it justice.