Art, Movies, Lit, Theater

Freekly Fiction Vol. 1

Posted by Nick Brothers |

Hours After Midnight

by Garrett Parker

I love this sky

at nighttime

when the sun lies

far below its last

glint.

With time spent

recollecting

how the night was

with friends

who seem

unfit.

When crypts

are alive

with lives and lies

lost in lullabies.

They cry

the songs of

nighttime birds

echo drunken

slurs

keep the

night in sync.

It’s the

only hour

I can think.


 

In Times Past

by Dani Hamburg

 

She’s eight years old

 Imagine that

 With a mud stained shirt

And a hat turned backwards

She is amused by the cricket on the ground

But her mom frowns and snaps,

“Don’t touch it!”

She’s faster than the boys on her team

She spits farther than all of them

She comes home with blood and bruises on her knees

But I smile and think to myself

 “Just like me”

If I could I go back to those golden days

To one more genius football play

Then I could trade in stiletto high heels

For worn out sneakers and bare-foot days

If I could tell her one thing

I’d tell her to run from society

Because once they hand you lip-gloss

There’s no turning back

And once they put mascara on your eyes

It’s no surprise that things are different

Girl, listen

 Listen to me

If I could go back to that dreamy world

Of hopping fences in late October

Then I could relive the pranks we played

That had us laughing all day

When I ran free with my brother

And his old pals around the corner

Oh, the way I’d laugh in times past

Take me back

I can’t go back

Oh the way I’d laugh in times past

If I could go back

But I can’t

So I spend my days encouraging her

To be herself and to never change


Passing

by Erin Anderson

Warm smiles and friendly hellos-

hidden in a pad-locked box.

Simple gestures of kindness

stowed away for later dates.

 

In passing they are strangers.

Swift silent movements

as they glide past one another without a word.

 

Conditioned to fear,

our faces set in stone-

cracking a smile fractures the rigid mask.

 

But she is strong

like a flower growing out of a mountain side-

a beautiful oasis amidst barren stone.

Her glowing smile brightens his silent world.

The glorious simplicity of the most human act

makes his day.

 

She is his savior with

the gentle upturn

of her sweet

lips.

 


Wanna see your work in the Freekly Fiction section?
The Free Weekly is looking to publish local poetry, flash fiction and other types of experimental writing in its print edition. If there is interest, prompts may be issued. The published selections will be determined at the editor’s discretion. Some line editing may be made as necessary, however, rough drafts will not be accepted. Submissions containing gratuitous (i.e. artless) violence, sex, profanity, libelous statements or gossip will not be accepted. Longer submissions should stay below 600 words.
Submissions must be electronic. No PDFs. Documents should be formatted in Microsoft Word, TextEdit, or Google Documents.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. All fields are required.

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>