The Eye of the Beholder
"I guess I feel lonely. Or alone. I don't feel like we are on the same page as a married couple and I can't figure out why."
The Improbable Dangers of Candle Wax
He could hardly make himself say it. He sat on the couch—she was just sitting there laughing about a dumb YouTube and the sound of her hoarse giggles was like music—lit up a cigarette—she hated these things but I think I need them right now—and stared hard at her shoes on the floor.
![[EXCERPT] "I Am Primary" from The Achilles Battle Fleet: Book One: Mei-Ling Lee](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/579fa3912994ca0eff850271/1649639963710-LREY01D8S2ICPU1XCMLR/Screen+Shot+2022-03-21+at+7.44.13+AM.png)
[EXCERPT] "I Am Primary" from The Achilles Battle Fleet: Book One: Mei-Ling Lee
The following is an excerpt from the novel The Achilles Battle Fleet: Book One: Mei-Ling Lee by Brendan Wilson, now available via the Literate Ape Press Bookshelf.
![[EXCERPT] The Achilles Battle Fleet: Book One: Mei-Ling Lee](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/579fa3912994ca0eff850271/1649510201907-4MTT2XD1Y6GSGRI4JKGT/Screen+Shot+2022-03-21+at+7.44.13+AM.png)
[EXCERPT] The Achilles Battle Fleet: Book One: Mei-Ling Lee
The following is an excerpt from the novel The Achilles Battle Fleet: Book One: Mei-Ling Lee by Brendan Wilson, now available via the Literate Ape Press Bookshelf.
John, Dear - An Erotic Story
I am the small “top”, John. The little domme.
Slim ankles, tiny waist, size 6 shoe.
He is easily twice my size and reminds me of who you might resemble in a decade or two.
I Give You Nothing
She was America’s wet dream, white, blonde, and beautiful. Of course, these physical characteristics were used against her, primarily by those who had not achieved a fraction of what she had earned. Her accomplishments were never, according to these people, the fruits of her natural intellect and hard labor. Rather, they were the inevitable conclusion derived from the size of her breasts/ass/stomach, as well as a particularly nasty rumor that had been circulating since sophomore year concerning an alleged handjob she had given to Mr. Howley—the English teacher who organized these events—behind the bleachers in the old gymnasium.
Extinguished Light
He broke into a piece of the earth with his shovel. The burial, he had decided, would take place in front of the farm. The surrounding soil was fertile enough, so the dig wouldn’t be too taxing, physically speaking. Halfway through, the father appeared to lose control of his basic motor skills. He dropped the shovel and immediately fell to his knees and began to dry-heave. The heaving gave way to a sudden and hostile appearance of vomit that expelled out of his mouth with a force that could only be described as audacious.
Evolution?
“I’m not happy with you two. You guys missed the target altogether! What you put together will soon destroy itself and now we have to start all over someplace else.”
Darkness
“You alright?” asks the cop.
I try again. It’s harder and harder to breath. My chest.
“I can’t breathe. My sternum. It’s bursting out of my chest.” I lean on his car.
“Whoa there, fella, I just got it washed.”
“Please. Help me.”
The cop laughs. “Looks like you’re dying.” He stretches his arms back with a yawn, then straightens his hat. “Time for me go.”
“No.” Another gasp.
The Bog
Finn placed his hand on Michael’s shoulder and squeezed. “I wish there was another way, Michael. I do. But this is best for you. And us, o’course. A hunter best hunts alone. You’ll be a better man for it when ye come home.”
Based On A True Feeling
Now something has broken, and her vision is brand new and it feels amazing. Little more than a week past eighteen and really in her own skin for the first time. Like he gave her something that would always be hers.
This is the first time she has let herself look in the mirror since then.
The Coffee Shop
“You know.” The stranger winked. “I mean, what if you pissed someone off bad. I mean really bad. And they wanted it taken care of? In a coffee shop? Say, this one? At,” he looked at his watch, then looked up smiling. “One o’clock and thirty-five seconds.” He laughed. “And the guy to do it was supposed to be me? Weird, huh?”
Christmas, Baby.
The next morning at the hospital nursery Kitty approached her premature grandson for the first time. The nurse allowed her to hold him and he yawned with a power which awed her. Suddenly there was something small showing its strength by pushing against her grasp. Choosing her.
Between Tomorrow and Tomorrow
Mom finishes her kung pow chicken and finds no fortune in the cookie. Then the labor pains kick in all over her like an other worldly chain reaction of earthquakes that will not be stopped. She gives birth right there in the food court.
The Destroyed Object Is Resurrected - A Prosepoem
I feel better at home, though when I go into the kitchen the staff have turned into simian creatures. Not quite human, not quite monkey. Something gleefully in between, well-dressed as ever.
Blink
He blinked again. His cheek no longer soothed by the wooden floor beneath it. A wisp of intrusive dust drifted towards him, settling on his lashes. A laborious blink, his only remedy, then another, the particle unmoving.
Rats
His mother worked two jobs. One was good, and one was bad. The good one, she said, was good because people left her alone.
The Beginning?
How did we get here? Was it a Supreme Being or an intelligence which created the universe with all of its rules?
Maybe both?
Cheez Slyces
It seemed like a good idea—or maybe a funny idea—at the time but this was going sideways fast.
Bog Bodies
In ancient times, people were sacrificed to the bog. Now, the souls trapped within bog demand more sacrifices. And if they don’t get them, they will rise, and they will find souls themselves.
How do you want to be defined? By one action? By some opinion that could evolve? By a mistake, regrettable only with hindsight? Or by the sum of your parts? Okay, do that for other people. Start the trend.