Did I forget to mention I’ve been reading short fiction to my Great Pyrenees for bed time? Woops. Well. Enjoy. This is the first chapter of Twin Rivers by Jeremy Bender.
#writingcommunity #booksky #gay
Join Cooper’s bed time story (my Great Pyrenees) as we read Waymon Hudson’s the Masks Wore Me - a horror about a ballet dancer and his audience of a breaking body. This is so scary that Cooper falls off the bed!
#booksky #writingcommunity #gay
Bedtime for Cooper-Day 1
I read a spicy Bonnie and Clyde escapade written by James Luo to my Great Pyrenees, Cooper as a bedtime story.
Peregrin Captured 1/X?
These are not the lands of my fathers. No mother mine here. I wake at night and wish the island oceans birthed in me. No merlion greets me in the heartlands.
#wip #gay #writingcommunity #microfiction
Man on throne
𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 - 1/1
Peregrin finished seeing the Cruciferous Queen, her napaform crown bulbous with might. Every throne must bend root; every bloom, its fealty. Long may the emperor of gardens reign. His metropomorphic astyromancy keeps the realms safe.
#writingcommunity #gay #microfiction
man at Millennium Park
Mishigami Calls Peregrin - 4/4
Sunset falls onto the millennia. 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘦, Shi said, cool palms on my face. I sobbed. Tears, spit, snot. 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘺. He held my mouth open with his thumb. The train crossed Mississippi. My face in the glass of the car, wrecked in dilapidation. 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐲.
#microfiction #gay
Mishigami Calls Peregrin - 3/4
Closed-shop Rainforest Cafe, abandoned. I woke under the canopy of a mushroom, Shi’s eyes on me. 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧, he said, like my name was completion. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝐈 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘺, Shi said. You get it, I never stay.
#microfiction #gay #wip
Mishigami Calls Peregrin - 2/4
𝘚𝘪𝘵, Shi said at lunch at the Tribune. He owned a dark smolder and a millennium chin with bean dimples. 𝘐 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦. 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜, I start to say. You practice these things. Then he lays his hand on mine, thumb at my pulse. 𝐈 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝.
#microfiction #gay #wip
Man in front of Lake Michigan
Mishigami Calls Peregrin -
1/4
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 said the wind, Mishigami. 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, I said. 𝐇𝐢. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦. A man stepped forward. 𝐎𝐡, I thought. 𝐎𝐡 𝐧𝐨. We found ourselves at Navy Pier where they hung the Quilt in ‘88. My hand an inch from his. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬. 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘥.
#microfiction #gay #wip
man at Millennium Park
Mishigami Calls Peregrin - 4/4
Sunset falls onto the millennia. 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘦, Shi said, cool palms on my face. I sobbed. Tears, spit, snot. 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘺. He held my mouth open with his thumb. The train crossed Mississippi. My face in the glass of the car, wrecked in dilapidation. 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐲.
#microfiction #gay
Mishigami Calls Peregrin - 3/4
Closed-shop Rainforest Cafe, abandoned. I woke under the canopy of a mushroom, Shi’s eyes on me. 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧, he said, like my name was completion. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝐈 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘺, Shi said. You get it, I never stay.
#microfiction #gay #wip
Mishigami Calls Peregrin - 2/4
𝘚𝘪𝘵, Shi said at lunch at the Tribune. He owned a dark smolder and a millennium chin with bean dimples. 𝘐 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦. 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜, I start to say. You practice these things. Then he lays his hand on mine, thumb at my pulse. 𝐈 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝.
#microfiction #gay #wip
Man in front of Lake Michigan
Mishigami Calls Peregrin -
1/4
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 said the wind, Mishigami. 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, I said. 𝐇𝐢. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦. A man stepped forward. 𝐎𝐡, I thought. 𝐎𝐡 𝐧𝐨. We found ourselves at Navy Pier where they hung the Quilt in ‘88. My hand an inch from his. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬. 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘥.
#microfiction #gay #wip
Author at Millennium Park
Farewell My Millennia
Lunch in Chicago - the conception of an urban gay romantasy.
Dog sploot
Christ has died.
Christ has risen.
Christ will come again.
The eastern terraces would need adjustment before the third moon. Someone would have to tell Light-Through-Stone. And Light-Through-Stone would say she already knew, because Light-Through-Stone always already knew.
A thread of forest gossip from the lower spring basins arrived carrying the temperature of yesterday’s rain. The rain had run warmer than last week’s. She held still and let the relay pass through her: the mountain had shifted its runoff.
The moss reached her first, its greeting the slowest and most deliberate: a cool dampness spreading finger by finger through the soil until it arrived as Good morning across the full width of her lower hands.
She pressed all four hands into the ground and the grove answered with its hundred small morning courtesies. They arrived through her palms one at a time, each at the pace of the body that sent it.
The fiddleheads of royal fern were beginning to unfurl their tight coils at the clearing’s edge. They jerked open like marionettes more than fern.
She scraped it off with her thumbnail.
The back of her neck had stiffened. Her upper arms had gone to pins and bark-prickle where she’d slept on them wrong, and she shook them out, and the shaking made a sound like a wet dog and she did not care. Something had deposited a thin crust of droppings along her lower forearm during the night.
Take a moment to read to your dog today.
The Dao of Jesus
What if we spent less time on who Jesus is and more on how his faith is practiced and emphasized?
Instead of:
- obedience, alignment?
- heroic holiness, quotidian holiness?
- authority, influence?
Have we made it harder to follow Christ by emphasizing his deity over his Way?
The Greatest Trump: A Tarot
LOGLINE: A satircal tarot reading of the American executive branch, dealt face-down.
#shortfiction #wip #authorsky #amwritingcommunity #booksky
St Sebastian realness
Thank you!
Oops. Well. Nevermind.
That Hag on Canal Street
LOGLINE: An orange narcissist who never cared about anything walks into a phone booth promising a dimension of adoring crowds — and the old woman on the other side of the glass sets a timer.
#authorsky #writingcommunity #shortfiction #horrorsky
