Art and Design Commons^™

The Long Side Of The Tracks, James Metzger

The Tuxedo Archives

In just three short weeks I traveled upwards of 8000 miles of rail, circulating around an antiquated network of industrial savagery, from Oakland CA to Oakland CA, trading stories and cigarettes with other wayward travelers while waiting for more important trains of cattle and produce to take the tracks. ~excerpt from short story

Pieces, Brittany Blake

The Tuxedo Archives

She still wakes up some nights in cold sweats with a scream rising like bile in her throat, waiting to fling itself out into the world. Sometimes she’s awake enough to hold it back and sometimes she can even fall asleep again. Sometimes, she can’t. ~excerpt from short story

Let's Get One Thing Straight, Tyler Birss

The Tuxedo Archives

The feeling was far from pleasant. Once my friend’s colossal head collided with my face, I knew that I had broken my nose. Blood immediately drenched my large white tee and trickled down and onto the blacktop. I looked as if I had just fought Mike Tyson in a boxing match during the prime of his career. I slowly stumbled to the athletic trainer’s room with my bud in hopes of receiving some treatment. No one was there. ~excerpt from short story

People Watching Ii, Phillipa Armes

The Tuxedo Archives

I wonder if they knew they were neighbors.

I would never have known had I not followed them to their doorsteps. I would never have guessed that these two seemingly average men happened to live next door to each other in their million dollar houses. I would never suspect such a coincidence. Was it coincidence?

But maybe I should learn to expect the unexpected, be it cliché or not. ~excerpt from short story

Outskirts Of Berlin, November 18, 1949, Jackson Wayne

The Tuxedo Archives

Were almost there, sir”, said the young uniformed driver. There was not much to say from the man in the back of the jeep. He was very quiet with and had aviator’s shades covering his eyes. Unlike the driver, the man in the back did not have on an army uniform or even look presentable or even dressed for the weather. Only a Hawaiian aloha print shirt and khaki slacks barely seemed to shield him from the cruel winter breeze. As they came upon their destination the driver reached over to give the man a green field jacket. ~excerpt from …

When It Becomes His Gun, Jennie Lillard

The Tuxedo Archives

It’s not dead. Ok. Ok. Dad says: If the bird’s not dead, be ready with another shell if it decides to

take to the air. If I can get to it, put the bird on the ground, and smash it--smash it right on the neck--with

the butt of the gun. ~excerpt from short story

Sight, Allysa Miranda

The Tuxedo Archives

The sun beat down on the small suburban park in which all the local children spent their summers. Their laughter rang out among the trees and trickling brook that surrounded the minute playground. The cement path that wound its way around the child-size structures was lined with park benches, all desperately in need of a new paint job. These benches were filled with the mothers and babysitters forced to sit waiting for their charges to finally tire and be ready to lay down for their naps. ~excerpt from short story

Jack Apple And Blanche Cream, Annette Lust

The Tuxedo Archives

Cook: (narrating) One afternoon, after I finished preparing dinner, an apple with rosy cheeks and a pitcher full of thick white foamy cream stood on the kitchen table.

Cuckoo: Cuckoo! Look at handsome Jack Apple and sweet Blanche Cream! ~excerpt from short story

You Will Forget You Are Even Burning, Cheramie Johnson

The Tuxedo Archives

"There's places around here," Rego's mother told him once, outside on their front porch over coffee and tea, "where demons walk."

"Demons, then?" He was always playful, he always catered to her.

"Devils," she whispered harshly, and her skinny fingers shivered against her cigarette. ~excerpt from short story

Strange New World, Marcus Bowlus

The Tuxedo Archives

The trip between Egypt and Jerusalem had taken hours already, the environmental shielding on his sand skimmer shone a faint orange, the barren wastes flying by below were scattered with husks of tanks and bones, scorch marks still clinging to a battle field no one wanted to remember. ~excerpt from the short story

Gunman Slays 4 At Texas Church, Then Kills Self, Alexis Brown

The Tuxedo Archives

They were laughing at me, I knew it. I brushed the sweat off of my brow and looked forward at the tall looming steeple that had haunted my dreams for the better part of a year. I could see their false angelic faces staring back at me, mocking me, waiting to see if I would complete my mission. ~excerpt from short story

Winter Wings, Jennifer Jensen

The Tuxedo Archives

Aideen’s eyes glowed with envy as she watched her older sister Fia dance the Burning Dance in the center of the circle. Fia’s hair was a drifting mass of golden tendrils, and her thin, graceful limbs writhed in perfect unison with the movements of the flames. ~excerpt from short story

Apples Decay, Lauren Rigor

The Tuxedo Archives

The following article was taken from the last issue of The Summerland Courier, a major newspaper published in Summerland, a city located twenty miles outside Avalon across the Lake. It was found at the bottom of the newspaper’s regional section.

Falling, Kerri Kor

The Tuxedo Archives

True autumn doesn’t come with a date on a calendar; it comes with a change in the air, a certain quality of light, the heightened busy-work of birds and squirrels, the deepening of nature’s colors. And it comes for each person, early in the new academic year, when the buzz of human concerns crashes head-on with the ancient rites of transition. Groans and grumbles and added stress change in that moment of messy glorious perfection when we are once more reduced to parts of the whole and the illusion of control gives way to Reality. Will you recognize it when …

Caberet Girl, Kathryn Frazell

The Tuxedo Archives

A woman stepped into the crowded and lively entrance of the banquet hall. She was wearing a knee-length white coat. That should have been the first clue, that she wasn’t wearing tights or leggings of any kind. All you could see was bare leg. The black, slinky dress left no surprise as to the curves of her body. Her hair was raven black, cut in a chic bob, and her neck was adorned with pearls. Kohl covered her eyelids, and the lips were stained cherry red. She was the image of jazz and cabaret. ~ excerpt from the short story

Let The Walls Have Their Say, Kathryn Mcginness

The Tuxedo Archives

She’s a beautiful girl. Near-strangers tell her this on a regular basis. I’d tell her, too, but I don’t like giving things to people who don’t appreciate them. ~excerpt from the short story

Moths, Crystal Smith

The Tuxedo Archives

The thick air held still in the hot August evening.

Angela and her family were at their neighbor’s house—mostly because they liked the pool they had in their backyard more than they liked their actual neighbors. But her parents were busy schmoozing over beer and barbeque, leaving Angela to play peacemaker among the children—her younger brother, Joe, 10 years of age, and Wesley McArthur, 8 years old. They were best friends and arch rivals, despite their age difference. They especially needed to be watched when they started rough-housing. Angela sighed under the outdoor light, trying to quickly complete reading Catcher …