You tiptoe through the dark labyrinth of the Hive until you reach the tiny room where you’ve spent every Thursday night for the last couple of months toiling away to no avail. The stench of Gouda, Kathleen’s patchouli, and the tang of potentially unfulfilled dreams waft through the air. A metal chair screeches against the gray linoleum when you pull it out, causing everyone to gawk at you. Kathleen rolls her eyes but does not relent. The weak smile spreading across your face fades as you remind yourself that this is the last time you’re going to see these people—your people. You promise yourself that you won’t sip wine or munch crackers or make small talk when this is all over. Saying goodbye is hard enough without all the empty calories and tedious chatter. You swear to yourself this is going to be the last time you pay to play. Your pocketbook and soul can’t take it anymore.
In my mind I could hear the phone ringing, but my eyes were fixated on the first page of a chapter in my thesis that needed work. All I could think about was how sick I was of that thesis. It all seemed pointless. None of the contents of this two hundred–page document was going to change the world in the slightest way . . .
In the 1950’s, I lived on The Barbary Coast—a five-block stretch that separated the “men only” taverns of Jersey City from the “women welcome” honkytonks of Union City . . .
The skinhead wipes the rain out of his eyes and cackles. “I’m glad I’m not the poor bastard that has to try and identify your body.” His pump-action shotgun is wedged against my throat. He is going to make one hell of a mess . . .
Akashic asked 20 literary blogs to each review one of 20 short stories from the paperback edition of DEMONS IN SPRING. Their responses are compiled below, with exclusive new commentary from Joe Meno followed by the story’s first line. * STORY #1: FRANCES THE GHOST *REVIEW: Steve Donoghue, Open Letters Monthly JOE MENO COMMENTARY: “I […]
Perhaps more than any American historical figure, Thomas Jefferson represents our desired belief that, at least in the past, the intellectual had a place in our political system. Of course, legends are tricky things at best, playing both sides of the truth/falsehood coin. I am bound by several influences, my education for one, my desire […]
A trooper had escorted them from Georgia. Pedro, the lanky bassman, had counted his change inside a convenience store and thought he had been shorted; after that the clerk fell into character and a tragedy was averted by Kofi, the shorthaired lead singer, who strode across the parking lot in tie-dyed jeans to interrupt his […]
