Thursday, November 12, 2020

FALSE by Susan Tepper




FALSE

prognosticator 

clenched fists/legs splayed

dead center 

of the empty road.

Howling. 

Near daybreak.

Soon the scythe.

But for now

those inside slept

while clocks ticked.

A few dozy maples

dropped leaves.

Emerging sun 

glinting off houses 

painted weary.

Windows sparked.

Otherwise, stillness.

People sleeping.

Until.





Susan Tepper is the author of nine published books of fiction and poetry.  Her most recent titles are CONFESS (poetry published by Cervena Barva Press, 2020) and the road novel WHAT DRIVES MEN (Wilderness House Press, 2019).  Tepper has received many honors and awards.  She’s a native  ) New Yorker.  www.susantepper.com






Tuesday, November 3, 2020

The Spill Over by Susan Tepper


They’re sent to live among us

stirring our pots of discontent

in varying disguises—

seasoning—

raising temperatures past

the boiling point.

To revel in the spill over.

Never stopping they 

sniff out cracks in blood walls 

of mud huts and mansions,

the most commonplace dwelling

will do; all can be worked.

Everywhere and anywhere.

Slaughter costumed drab and deluxe

safe-cracking you

while you’re eating a sandwich 

not particularly of your choosing.  




Susan Tepper is the author of nine published books of fiction and poetry. Her most recent titles are CONFESS (poetry published by Cervena Barva Press, 2020) and the road novel WHAT DRIVES MEN (Wilderness House Press, 2019). Tepper has received many honors and awards. She’s a native ) New Yorker. www.susantepper.com




Thursday, October 22, 2020

Eternal As The Night by John Patrick Robbins




“Dude are you sure about this?  I mean I don't want to get in any trouble,”

Jack said, as the guys were grabbing the cooler from the van.

“Tim, why do you hang with this dude? You lose a bet or something or you just got a soft spot for special needs cases?” 

“Shut the fuck up Freddie! And give me a hand, this bastard is heavy man.”

“Sorry dude I’m walking the girls down to the beach, I rather hang with actual women than you two pussies. Besides we aren't on the field so it’ll do you good to do some actual work there captain.”

Freddie replied as he took off before Tim could tell him to go fuck himself.

“Man why do you hang with that asshole?”

“Shit if it wasn't for that asshole on the field, I wouldn't be getting scouted let alone getting out of this damn place.”

“Yeah, I mean me doing half your work so you could at least appear literate, didn't help either I’m sure you jerk.”

Tim now shot Jack a shitty look.
“Look dude just help me lug this bastard to the beach.”

Jack went to grab the other handle of the enormous cooler and almost dropped his end as Tim went to take off toward the beach.

“Fuck man! What the hell you got in here a dead body?”

“Yeah I went to the morgue last night and figured I would pick you up a cold one. Being no chick with a pulse would get near your weird ass.”

Jack laughed at that one.
"Man I’m not that creepy."

“Says the guy that opted out of a sure thing, to go fucking ghost hunting so he could post it on his paranormal channel on you-tube.”

“Yeah a sure thing with a chick that ended up giving half the football team the clap, wow thanks but I’m pretty good with not having to visit the free clinic.”

“Fuck man, stop your pissing and moaning and walk faster I’d like to get there before sunrise asshole!”

By the time Tim and Jack got to the beach Freddie already had the fire going.

“Fuck I thought you two love birds maybe ditched us to go start a parade or some shit.”

The girls busted up laughing.

“Hey ghostbuster, think fast!”

Freddie threw the football like a damn rocket hitting Jack right in the crotch.

Jack instantly dropped to his knees coughing trying not to throw up.

“Goddamn Freddie! What the hell is your problem man!”

Tim shouted as he checked on Jack, at the same time trying to fight his urge to bust up laughing with everyone else.

Jack Norris was always going to be the odd man out when it came to anything in life and damn sure when it came to social gatherings.
But Tim was a friend from way back who was a rarity amongst jocks, being he had a soul.
 

And honestly didn't hold as much passion for the game he played. 
As he did for leaving this nowhere town in Hatteras North Carolina.

After Jack finally could breath and feel his lower extremities were still intact. He joined the others round the fire.
And as he sat there sipping an ice cold beer. Saying little to nothing he had to question, why the fuck was he even here.

Freddie cut one annoying joke after the other as his brain dead girlfriend Heather Beasley laughed away.
Tim and Cindy just drank and cuddled as Freddie got further wasted and louder by the second.

“Hey Dude, sorry about that shit earlier I didn't mean to hit you that hard seriously. Want a beer?”

Freddie asked as he reached in the cooler pulling out two cans of Budweiser.

“Sure man.”

“Then go fetch bitch!”

Freddie replied laughing as he launched the beer into the darkness beyond the fire's light.

"Fuck this shit!"

Jack said as he got up to leave. He heard Tim call out but he was pissed off enough he didn't give a damn anymore.
Freddie Rhodes was a pure asshole and would remain one for the rest of his life in this shithole town.

Jack was so pissed he hadn’t even noticed someone heading from the dunes.
But as the wind blew he damn sure knew they were there from the stink.

Jack didn't know who, or what it was. 
But he damn sure wasn't about to find out by himself either.
He turned the other direction and started running back towards the others.

“I don’t get why you're friends with him to begin with.”
Cindy said to Tim.

“Jack’s alright he is super smart, just not very social is all. I mean once you get to know him he can talk about anything.”

“Yeah especially if it’s fucking invisible and doesn’t exist that dudes a total loser, he probably is going end up like Dahmer or some shit!”

As Freddie interrupted as usual whenever the attention wasn't on him.
Freddie was really pushing Tim’s buttons tonight. Of course he was always hard to deal with when he got drunk.

“Hey dude, look who's haulin ass and looks like he found a friend!”

Freddie said as he pointed, as heading toward them was Jack with a disheveled tall person not far behind.

“Fuck, that looks like old crazy ass Bunky, come on asshole! We got to help Jack out."

The boys took off as Heather looked puzzled at Cindy.
“What the fuck is a Bunky?”

Cindy didn't reply for only someone as stupid as Heather, wouldn't have heard about Bunky by now.
Bunky was a former sheriff whose wife had mysteriously vanished on this very same beach.

He went insane searching for her claiming something about some strange people taking her from the ocean.
He had lost everything and now, was simply a vagrant most people avoided.
Most the towns folks shunned him claiming he had murdered his wife.
He would be taken away to the state hospital. They would keep him for as long as they could. Then like always he would end up here scaring the shit out of tourists until they hauled him away again. 

Meanwhile as Tim and Freddie met up with Jack.
Who by now could barely breathe.

“Hey Jackie boy, who's your new friend
?”

“Fuck you Freddie, this guy won't stop chasing me man!”

Bunky stood just staring like some odd character in a horror movie. He may have been old but he was still in good shape and standing six four he was far from a joke.
As the local cops had a hell of a time dealing with him the last time he flipped out at the Eagle market.

And knowing it took three strong and armed cops to get him under control.
And here Tim was stuck with just him and Freddie, didn't make him feel at ease.

“Hey man you alright.”

“You kids need to leave.”

Bunky replied with a tone that let Tim know he wasn't truly all there.

“Hey look sir, we're just having some drinks, we don't want to start no trouble.”

“You’re going to attract them with that fire, it draws them, you need to put out that damn fire!”

“What the fuck is this loon talking about? Hey fruitcake! Why don't you carry your stinking ass, before I get pissed and knock some sense  into you!”

Freddie was already too screwed up to say anything to.
Bunky acted like he didn't even hear Freddie as he started walking towards the fire.

“Guys we got to get the fuck out of here!”

“What the fuck are you two pussies scared of, afraid hobo Harry is going to put in his false teeth and bite you? Hey girls don’t worry he just said he wants a blow job and he will be on his way.”

Freddie shouted out as both Cindy and Heather were huddled together.

The crazy old man paid them no notice much like the boys, he just sat in front of the fire staring into it as if in a trance.
And as the boys followed Cindy shot Tim a look like, What the hell!

“Girls say hello to the loony of the coast and Jackie's new life partner. You have to ignore the stink, I’m not sure if it's father time or Jack here, who probably shit his pants running from him.”

The kids didn't have the slightest clue and the old man didn't seem to know they existed. As he pulled a beer from his jacket.

And Kicked it back, as if he was drinking water.

“Mister I don't mean anything, but this is kind of a private party. So if you could just drink your beer and be on your way I would appreciate it.”

Tim said trying to mask the fact he simply wanted to call it a loss and just leave the cooler with the old man.
And be anywhere but here.
The group all huddled together trying to speak softly as not to agitate the old man.

Freddie of course grew more and more annoyed with the idea of calling it a night. When he was getting buzzed, nothing pissed him off worse.
Than the idea of getting sober.

“Look guys we need to just leave, fuck the beer and this place. 
This guy is fucking dangerous! I mean they never found his wife's body and I rather not find out what happened to her, okay!”

Tim and everyone agreed except Freddie of course.

“Fuck this bullshit! You all can piss in your pampers, I’m getting rid of this freak. I don't give a shit if he killed his old lady or not!”

“Freddie shut the fuck-”

“I’m not crazy or deaf you little bastard!”

The old man spoke up cutting Freddie off mid sentence.

“The reason they never found her is they took her. And everyone rather point the finger at me, then face the truth about this place. It’s fucking cursed!”

“Hey screw you grandpa I’m tired of your shit!"

The old man stood up as Freddie approached him.
And backhanded the boy so hard he nearly knocked him on his ass.

“I told you, you need to leave now!”

The old man yelled as everyone grew silent and prepared to exit just as he had said.

Freddie spit blood on the sand from a busted lip.
He charged the old man tackling him to the ground as they both almost fell into the fire.

You could hear the wind leave Bunky's body, as Freddie sank his fists into the old man's ribs. The old man was hurt but fought like a wild animal as he bit into his much younger attacker's ear. 

Freddie yelled out in pain getting off Bunky as blood flowed down his neck.
But Freddie was far from done as he grabbed a plank from the wood pile striking Bunky across his face.

Freddie had snapped as he continued to hit Bunky repeatedly.
Each blow more savage than the next, Jack and Tim both struggled to get the plank from him.

“You’re going to fucking kill him dude!”

Tim yelled as Freddie just glared at his friend and teammate.

“You see! That's the difference between us motherfucker! You're the gloryhound and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to win you Goddamn coward!”

And as Freddie launched into a tirade at Tim. The girls stood over the old man, who now didn't seem like such a monster.
But just a sad old broken man crying, struggling to breath as he spit up blood.

Jack knew he had to get help looking at the scene. Freddie had lost his mind and after he saw what he did to a man double his size. He knew he didn't stand a chance, if  Freddie turned his wrath upon him.

He went to run towards the van when he was stopped dead in his tracks.
He felt the claws enter his throat.
As he tried to yell out, his windpipe snapped as easily as a child snaps a twig.

And as he tried to crawl back towards the group. He felt his body being lifted as he was tossed into the fire.
The girls' screams were quickly silenced.
As was the boy whose rage had drawn them to the group. 

That old Charley tried to warn them about.

He laid there broken, as he listened to their screams. Helpless for nobody was a match for the demons of the ocean's abyss.
Charley just laid by the fire and prayed for death.
As the one they had called Freddy fell down beside him.

He looked at the old man differently now.
He struggled to say something as those same claws shot through the back of his head as the blood splattered Charlie's face.
He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of them feeding.

When finally he opened his eyes.
He was looking into the face of something he could not fully explain.
It’s eyes were deep and solid black it smelled of the depths. And by the fire's reflection he could see himself within its gaze.

It breathed in his scent and stared. He felt it’s icy touch.
As it rubbed his cheek Charlie felt his heart struggle to beat.
It stared at him in a way, only one other had before.

It was then at the precipice of our living world he said his farewell to the woman he had always loved. And who had been taken and transformed into something altogether different by the sea.

True love is eternal as the tides.






John Patrick Robbins, is the editor in chief of The Rye Whiskey Review  and Black Shamrock Magazine.  His work has been published here at Punk Noir Magazine, Fearless Poetry Zine,  The Dope Fiend Daily, Piker Press, 1870 Magazine, San Pedro River Review,  San Antonio Review,  Herion Love Songs, Romingos Porch and Schlock Magazine. 

His work is always unfiltered.



Wednesday, September 9, 2020

Those We Kill by Susan Tepper

 




Since morning I have 

had to leave—

I keep telling you

A thirst that

won’t be quenched

the world spits feathers

on dirt floors, plush 

carpet— 

Soaking up 

what blood we eat

& those we kill

the toughest parts

grind teeth to mortar





Susan Tepper is the author of nine published books of fiction and poetry. Her two most recent titles are CONFESS (poetry from Cervena Barva Press, 2020) and a road novel WHAT DRIVES MEN (Wilderness House Press, 2019) that was shortlisted at American Book Fest.  Other honors and awards include eighteen Pushcart Prize Nominations, a Pulitzer Nomination by Cervena Barva Press for the novel ‘What May Have Been’ (adapted as an Off-Broadway play to be produced next year), shortlisted in Zoetrope Contest for the Novel (2003), NPR Selected Shorts for ‘Deer’ from American Letters & Commentary (ed. Anna Rabinowitz), Second Place Winner in StorySouth Million Writers Award, Best of 17 Years of Vestal Review and more.  Tepper is a native New Yorker.  www.susantepper.com





Friday, August 14, 2020

INFINITE DARKNESS. By Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal




The darkness is living in light.
Its brightness only seems to
darken in the light of day. A
candle that burns at each end,
this darkness is infinite plus
infinity. It blinds one like a
thousand suns. It does not
let up and it does not hide in
plain sight. It’s out in the open.
It comes in through the window 
and through the front door.







Luis has lived in California for 45 years. He works in the mental health field in Los Angeles. 


His poems have appeared in Ariel Chart, Dope Fiend Daily, The Rye Whiskey Review, Under The  Bleachers, Yellow Mama Webzine, and ZYX. Kendra Steiner Editions has published 8 of his chapbooks.

Wednesday, July 29, 2020

Ready The Three. By John Patrick Robbins

                                           



The children played close to camp as the morning was cold yet still a hint of  spring was in the air.
The children laughed and drifted towards the woods chasing one another lost in the bliss and innocence only children know.


The little girl paused as she caught a glimpse of something at the tree line. It nestled down and like anyone unsure of what they were witnessing she edged closer.


Her friends viewed as she edged towards the woods, it was the one place they were told strictly to avoid.
And she was at the treeline when she finally saw what had made the noise.
It appeared to be a man and then she realized it was a group of many all scattered through the woods.


Her heart beat faster as these were like no men she had ever viewed before.
There were many, but one held her attention for his eyes were that of one who was not there.


He smiled bearing fangs more so than teeth. There was some form of black paint around his eyes but it was the smile that terrified as he simply held his finger to his lips.


The arrow was swift that went through her eye piercing the brain.


From the camp the natives heard the screams of the children.
And it was then the horn of hell echoed, that sound that would haunt the few that would survive to their dying day.


They charged an army of giants, as the braves ran to meet them and their certain death. Biskane got to his horse quickly no matter the outcome these devils would not go unpunished. 
As the men naturally fell in behind him.


“What are they!”


Niimi yelled, as always his loyal friend without question joined his side.


“They are enemies and nothing more!”


Biskane shouted as he brought the horse to full gallop towards the center of the invading force.


The men all halted at the approaching braves.


“Shield Wall! Ready the three!”


As the braves approached they slowed as these strange invaders seemed to vanish behind painted rounded planks of wood.


The braves all halted, some of them even laughed.


“Look Biskane, the giants hide like turtles, they are cowards!”


“No there is something wrong with this do not be fooled Niimi.”


It was then that horn sounded again as the shields opened up.
And men who seemed more like demons emerged.
Their flesh was mired in scars; they began to charge the braves.


Atop one's head was a bear's skull, the two others who seemed just as massive, followed without word to one another although under command of some sort of strange sorcery.


Biskane screamed as his men followed him, he had no idea where these invaders had come from; he only knew where he planned to send them.


Niimi’s arrow flew straight into one’s shoulder yet it didn't slow the man in the least, who only laughed as finally they collided.


Biskane’s horse screamed as the axe swung by the largest one plunged into its chest.


Biskane hit the ground with a huge impact, as he felt the air leave his lungs as he lay powerless as the horses screams filled the air as this monster tore into him ignoring Biskane all together.


These were not men; they were animals void of soul and savage in nature; they acted more as possessed beings.  


The man swung the axe again and again as Biskane viewed in horror at his savagery as the blood flew and the legs of his stead kicked fiercely until they kicked no more.


Biskane could hear a battle going on but was lost in the scene that unfolded before his eyes.


As he struggled to draw air into his lungs and somehow get to his feet.


This force or whatever it was finally noticed him as he moved toward Biskane.


He raised his axe above his head as Biskane did everything in his power to simply stand.


Niimi leapt upon this beast's back driving his knife into his side, riding his back like some sort of strange grizzly.
The axe fell to the ground as the man fought to get Niimi from his back.


He finally grasped the brave’s hair and flipped him over his shoulder.


The monster straddled Niimi using his own skull to bash in Niimi's face as his friend's nose shattered and the blood exploded and only seemed to anger this monster more as he strangled his friend.


Biskane knew he had to kill this evil or die trying. He plunged his knife into the man's back and again he plunged it deeper.
He yelled out in pain no matter his stature he was a man and all men feel pain.


The man stood up swinging his arm trying to strike his attacker and Biskane ducked under the massive arm.
Slicing him yet again speed was key, for a mountain loomed, but a bird could fly and he had to be the bird in this encounter.


Biskane kept dodging the beast's attacks, slicing his forearms and his face as this possessed monster kept pursuing.



Biskane was lost in the battle, too lost to realize one of the three was taking aim.
The arrow flew fiercely into the gut and the pain was instant. 
The mountain had finally buried the bird.


As Biskane felt a strength like none other grasp his throat with one hand.
 As he was lifted off the ground.
Those that had terrified a small child now cast fear in this warrior.


As the monster smiled as he felt his own blade slice his belly open.
And the hands of his reaper enter his body.


Biskane would know a death few would likely never have to endure and death is what all that would encounter the three would pray would come.
For hell they did not fear, for these were berserkers and norse men who chased the promise of death with great glee.


The horn sounded again and soon the native people would know a hell far beyond the stories of campfires and legends.


The vikings had landed and much blood was to be spilt.


Around the fire after the battle Einar sat with his brothers.
As screams filled the air as the men enjoyed the spoils of war.


Kare looked into the fire lost in the bliss of the visions as often he was never truly all there to begin with.


A woman in their company approached Colborn.
Looking at Einar slumped down by the fire she said.


“He needs the soup, his injuries are many we must know.”


Her words were cut off abruptly as she was slapped to the ground by Colborn.


“My brother needs mead and nothing more. He has been near death more than all of us and still he returns. For there is much more to kill and if you do doubt this. I will be sure to inform him so he can slice you from slit to gullet you bitch!”


Kare laughed madly as did Einar.


The sound of a young girl's screams drew Einar’s attention.


The men continued their celebration one at a time.


“Einar, why do you concern yourself with this?”


“Einar only has one weekness and being he bleeds like a woman he holds sympathy for them.”


Kare piped in causing Einar to shoot him a look of pure murder, but Kare only busted out laughing again.


Einar approached the men who at the site of the man parted knowing his wrath knew no limits.


The one man continued to rape the child her cries were all that could be heard.


The man looked to the three berserkers who loomed over him.


“You wait your turn, you animals go back to your fire and your drinks. I do not fear you defective fools.”


Einar kicked the man off the girl, he stood up to lunge at the wounded berserker, but was met by the speed and accuracy of Colborn’s arrow.
The men drew on the three, but Einar paid no attention as he knelt by the child.


He made no apologies; he simply slit her throat.


“What are you doing you fool!”


A man called out to Einar.


Einar looked at the men who now were ready for yet another battle.


“It is better to kill something outright, then leave it alive yet dead within.” 


A man charged and was met by Kare who lifted him above his head and tossed him into the fire, his screams were even greater than the girl's as his flesh burned as the sweet smell filled the air. 


He staggered from the coals only to meet Kare's axe as it sank into his skull.
 Leaving him to fall in a heap burning upon the hot coals making that sickly hissing sound  others approached Einar and Colborn prepared for the attack.


“Stop you fools!”


Ove yelled out as soon the rest of the men now all swarmed around the three.


The men loathed the berserkers, but Ove understood the ever so useful purpose.


“Why did you kill this girl Einar? She does not belong to you!”


The chieftain asked.


“Because her screams were interrupting my death and because I also do whatever I want!”


Ove laughed, looking to Einar with his usual disdain.


“Have you forgotten who commands these men Einar?”


“You command fools I command myself and if you choose to keep speaking to me as a snake. I will slice your tongue in half for all to know your true nature.”


Einar lunged at Ove, who abruptly leaped backwards.


The three all busted out laughing.


“Your mighty chieftain commands men, yet is not a man himself this most amusing.”


The men prepared for battle but Ove once again had them stand down.


“Ignore Einar and his band of fools, they are dogs of war and nothing else, remember it is I who commands the leash. Now let's enjoy our evening minus these fools.”


The men went off to their separate fires and their separate vices.
As the three brothers returned to their fire as the other men made sure to keep a wide berth around them.


“Sometimes I wish they would just try to kill us, least then we could be done with Ove.”


Colborn said as he stared into the fire.


“Our deaths will be soon enough my brother no need to hurry it, there is still much havoc to raise and drinks to be had.”


Kare said.


As Einar simply laid there on the verge of death as always coughing up blood and cursing the Gods and the pain.


This battle was over but the story of the three had only just begun.
Einar at times envied the dead for at least they understood peace.
He chased death with unbridled passion along with his brothers.


He had been at the gates of Vahalla often yet the Gods were cruel by design. It was only upon that battlefield did Einar as well as his brothers truly feel alive.







John Patrick Robbins, the editor in chief of the Rye Whiskey Review and Black Shamrock Magazine.

His work has been published in, Schlock Magazine, Punk Noir Magazine, 1870 Magazine, Heroin Love Songs, Piker Press, Sacred Chickens, Oddball Magazine, San Pedro River Review, San Antonio Review.

His work is always unfiltered.