Letter from the Editor
by Em Kersey (InkSpin Editor)
Hello again, readers and writers. Our second issue of InkSpin contains a cornucopia of four new stories, two excerpts from a recently
published book of novellas, (Seven Days in
December) and an intriguing essay by Robert Laszlo on accelerated
writing. “On what?” I can hear you asking. Let Robert explain. (See his “CONFESSIONS
OF A SPEED WRITER - Musings on 'Seven
Days in December,' NaNoWriMo and other hasty projects.”) If
you find the excerpts (“Queen of the Fairy Feys” by Leila Joiner and “Prologue”
by Jim Tomlinson) interesting, you might wish to purchase the book at
http://jim-tomlinson.com/SevenDays/. In her excerpt, Leila takes us on a
fantasy journey into the depths of a coquina shell where she meets her
doppelganger, and Jim’s excerpts provide two letters between friends who met
when dissension against the Vietnam War was at its height.
Of the other four new stories, two of them—“The Right
Thing” and “The Painting” are flash fiction under 500 words. With deft strokes
and few words, each conveys subtle emotions about the nature of loss, and the
quest for personal identity. Our two longer stories—“Circle of Arms” and “Attics
and Cellars” bring us not untimely views on the horrendous toll of war, the
secrets kept by many veterans, and the relationships they have forged and
sundered. I hope you enjoy this issue’s offerings.
May I again offer my thanks to InkSpin’s Editorial Board
for reading and commenting on submissions.
Em Kersey
(Editor-in-Chief) |
Attics
and Cellars
by
Chris Kassel
The beauty of
autumn is hyped. There's a time when such trees look inside out,
like they're hurt, like they're hemorrhaging.
Ed is thinking that the majestic and century-old hardwood sprawl
wreathing his father's immaculate backyard looks like it's made of
eviscerated flesh, and he doesn't know why such a revolting thought
would occur to him in this instant, this moment of profound and
inconceivable grief. .... Read More
CONFESSIONS OF A SPEED
WRITER - Musings on 'Seven Days in December,'
NaNoWriMo and other hasty projects. by
Robert Laszlo (InkSpin
Editor)
..This
article was written, re-written, edited and spell-checked in under
30 minutes. I’m not bragging. I’m confessing—testifying before my
support group. Hi, my name is Robert, and I’m an accelerated writer.
It began
innocently enough. Back in the fall of 1999, the Inkies website
announced a contest. We were invited to submit novellas on any
subject, written in any genre, as long as the story focused on a
single week in December. But there was a catch (isn‘t there always a
catch?): participants were allowed only seven consecutive days to
craft an entire novella. Ten thousand or more polished,
well-conceptualized words in a week.
...Read
More
THE PAINTING
by
Patricia Richards
Millicent Voorhees, staring and resolute, sits at the small metal
café table, arms folded across her ample chest. A coffee cup and an
ashtray with a cigarette burning in it stand within reach.
A red-orange striped wall adds vibrancy to the scene.
Her lips and brows are straight-lined, severe. A jewel on a fine
linked chain hangs delicately from her wattled neck. ...Read
More
Prologue
by Jim Tomlinson
Sunday, July 4, 1971
Ms. Claire Lyons
644-1/2 West Boynton St.
Hartford, CT 06151
Dear Claire,
Congratulations on passing the bar exam. I am so proud of you! Have
you hung your shingle? If so, please send a photograph, and include
one of Hartford's newest lawyer while you are at it. My most recent
Claire photo dates to circa 1966. In it you are all braids and
flowers. Surely, you wear neat suits now and have your hair clipped
in a fashion more appropriate to your chosen profession. Show me,
please? ...Read More
About the Authors
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The Right Thing
by Margaret
A. Frey
Lyle
snatched the rifle from the gun case. He grappled for bullets in the
desk drawer, slumped against the wall and loaded up. No good
waiting. Might as well do it while the boy was at school.
...Read More
Circle of Arms
by
Richard M. Gerace
This guy’s eyes burned and
danced like distant fires on a winter night. His gaze darted from
spot to spot, from face to face, never quite focusing on anything,
but never missing anything either. A civilian would have dismissed
him as a crazy among crazies. His name was Ron, and he had been six
years home from the war. He survived on odd jobs and aluminum cans.
He never drank, never touched drugs. For six years, day and night,
everywhere he went, he carried a plastic toy assault rifle. He
seldom spoke and said little when he did. None of us knew his
history. .... Read More
Queen of the Fairy Feys
by Leila Joiner
What
are you thinking about?" Hattie asked.
"Sand castles," I replied.
We sat on a rocky outcropping on the beach at La Jolla,
contemplating the Pacific Ocean. Heavy surf crashed ever closer,
threatening to spray our perch with a salt mist.
"Not a very safe place to live," Hattie said. ....
Read More |