BACStreet Journal Fall Issue Available Now!

Hey there, just giving everyone a heads up that I have a story published in the Fall issue of the BACStreet Journal, published by the good people at the Beverly Arts Center. it's an anthology book of all types of writing and such, featuring a story, (conveniently located directly below this post!) and many others

Copies are $5 I believe and you can go to the Beverly Arts Center and score yourself a copy or you can get some from me.

Follow them on facebook or check em out here!
http://www.beverlyartcenter.org/

The Getaway Plan.

I remember those nights we'd talk about getting out of this place. We'd lay on the front lawn, our bodies poked by the sharp, damp grass. The cars trotted by obnoxious and exhaling breaths of smelly fumes into the summer air. We'd pretend they weren't there.

I'd close my eyes and wish that for just once when I opened them, you'd be looking at me and not the stars.

I guess I was always more hopeful of things back then when I should have been more realistic. You'd tell me about faraway lands, beaches and lighthouses, deserts and jungles.

“Exotic lands? As far as I'm concerned, anywhere past city limits would be an exotic land to us...” the way you smiled at me after you said it made me realize you really meant it. that was our getaway plan.

“What about our families, our friends?” I remember asking you. You had a very calm look on your face and just shrugged your shoulders. That didn't seem like too big of an issue for you.

“I..wish I could go..but I...I have a life here..I love you...I can't...just”

I tried to finish my sentence but we locked glances and I couldn't get the words out once I seen the expression on your face.

Without saying a word, our bodies collided, you grabbed my hips,held me and kissed my forehead, slow and very punctual. You held me for a moment I wish lasted longer and let go.

You turned around and walked to your car without saying a word.

I went home and laid in my bed listening to our favorite records over and over as
I fell asleep staring at the stars, the night you left town without me.

5 Seconds.

I'd walk you home most nights. We'd walk underneath the train platform as it would zoom by. For about 5 seconds of noisy silence our voices would be muted by clanking rails and locked glances.

Ink and Paper

I got a voice and I'll be god damned if you never hear it. I just pray 
there's enough ink and paper left in the world when all is said and 
done. I have this feeling that once the ink runs dry, my veins will 
follow. I'll tell you this much, as long as I have these words, I 
got a shot.

Count/Counter Point

He tucked his hands into his pockets.

She stood there, glancing at the sidewalk.

He hunched his head down, and they're eyes met. Light Green and Dark Blue.

She looked up at his face, studying his expressions.

He smiled (awkwardly), tried to think of something to say.

She had a million things to say, but couldn't think of which.

He knew he had to do something quickly.

She stood there, waiting for him to do something.

He slowly placed his hands on her hips.

She felt her knee's wobble

He heard his chest thumping.

She heard something.

He leaned in.

She closed her eyes.

He went for it.

“Mwwwwwwah!”

Pen > Sword

He jammed a ballpoint pen straight into her chest. Cracked through her breastbone and out sprayed splatters of cherry red and midnight black. His body trembled for a split second as her body flopped onto the concrete. He quickly grabbed the bottom of his shirt and wiped off smears of dark blood and ink off his face. Beads of sweat slithered down his cheek and hit his lip, tasted salty. There she laid, lifeless and frozen, like someone hit the pause button.

She laid there, streams of blood pouring out of her chest as her heart beat quicker and quicker.

BUMP BUMP. BUMP BUMP. BUMP BUMP.

She was laying in about 4 pints worth of her own flavor. Her skin was as white as a sheet of paper.

“So I guess it's true what they say, the pen IS mightier then the sword.” joked the man, as he wiped a trickle of blood off his shoe. He smiled and took a picture with his hands, and paced out the room.

Sealed with a what?

I remember how hard she'd press her lips against mine each time we'd kiss. It was an air tight seal, like the hatch of one those jet planes.