The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
ButterflyBy Mario Macias
QuailBellMagazine.com one looks up hopeful in the middle of a lonesome scrape of universe against the one big cloud without knowing across the land others are shouting loud-- above the yellow roads that wrap the globe, while a brown volcano coughs and heaves away the day only a few red puffs away, the one big cloud makes all colors gray-- they dream and dream as if movies do not sleep, without knowing oh, beat butterflies, you are bound by the estrangement of your own color-- amid all the crowding clutter, they roam the world like sad bright shadows of the neon night looking for each other, gazing out dirty wet windows, howling at the striking blue thunder-- they think they’re alone, but the luck of the wind will deliver, will dissolve the clouds that hide nameless islands-- found him one cold night, when life comes out to play at wind’s underground café-- the lights in the black sky laced each other like fireworks and dropped down like soaked sheets of cobwebs-- harder falls the rain: his grin was wild, his laugh heartical what do you do for fun? he called me the only name that’s ever stuck-- a butterfly never yawns but jumps! and kicks himself loose from the yellow roads until he’s drifting like those rare volcano flowers that cough out ashes when it rains-- all the butterflies are falling from one star to another star not knowing which light they like best-- in the air his hands dance like wings, even when he’s working he dances naked and smiles naked, because the party is too short-- sunshine nails through the one big cloud like a kaleidoscopic orgasm, the air seems to spring and wag as if blurry from tears, like a confetti rainbow after-- they are mad for it, even when the raindrops damp and smudge their wings, and even when the absent harmonica cries somewhere in the night, they are mad for it-- at the close of eve, wafting wet away, after he clinked the glass with a coin the music dimmed out and out the door-- it is too much to give, so for fun, i live The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
My Last DuchessBy David Fuchs QuailBellMagazine.com The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Heart of a QueenBy Sandra Scholes
QuailBellMagazine.com Be strong, she thought. Princess Charlotte was always told that. To be strong enough to rule, she had to have strength of character learned over several years, years before a crown would lay on her head. She had to listen to her tutors, later she would have to educate herself in all her womanly duties, and that was even before she would choose a suitor. But a suitor to share her life with could not be further from her mind. It was the crown that captured her imagination. The crown was hidden away in a glass case set in a secret place where it stayed, waiting until she became worthy of it. Waiting and worthy were not words that were ever in her vocabulary. She wanted the crown, and to get it she needed to find where it was hidden. Charlotte decided on a plan of action, donning her most shabby robes, she strolled out into the city, quietly so the guards of the palace did not know of her disappearance, going deep into the market place for answers. She wove around the market stalls, looking for those who looked as though they were skilled in divination. She came close to one man dressed in a black and white robe, a cowl hiding his features though his bright brown eyes showed how powerful he was. "Old man, I seek your counsel." Charlotte sat beside him where a small table had been set up with tarot cards, runes, knuckle bones, a crystal ball and a bowl used for scrying lay. "I require payment in coins or valuables." The seer replied. A wry smile played over his face. "And I have several coins made from the finest gold to give you." She poured the contents of a small velvet pouch onto the table, its noise making his black cat awaken with a start. She smiled inside, thinking that this payment would make him give her the answer she needed. The seer picked up one coin, biting it to test its quality. "As you wish girl. Tell me what it is you seek and I will find it." "The crown for the next ruler, I need to find its location." The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Death and the Three Brothers By Allison Barron
QuailBellMagazine.com The innkeeper topped off Ivan’s tankard of ale at his shouted request. “There’s a good chap!” the words slurred out of Ivan’s mouth and he took another large gulp, slopping half the contents down his shirt. The innkeeper didn’t seem to care, as long as the gold kept coming out of Ivan’s pockets to pay for the drink. Ivan patted his pant pocket, which was woefully flat, and called over to his brother Marcus who was rolling dice at another table with a group of men. Ivan asked him for a coin. “Cross your fingers, brother,” Marcus said loudly, above the men’s voices and the rattling dice. “I’m all in with this toss.” A large pile of gold, silver, and copper coins lay in front of him on the center of the table. Bodies were crowded around the small surface to see the outcome of the toss. Ivan’s other brother Wilhelm, the youngest of the three, stood at Marcus’s shoulder watching the spinning dice with eager eyes. The dice settled. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Windchimes in the WoodsBy Helen Georgia Stoddard QuailBellMagazine.com "Touch the flame and burn. Breathe the smoke and choke. Eat the ashes and spit. Tomorrow, you will hunt. *** Even now I play peek-a-boo with the mosquito larvae lurking in the bath. When I was little, I mistook them for fairy eggs and called myself their queen. Little did I know that I reigned over parasites. *** On a recent stroll, the plinking of merry music fell upon my ears. Stealthily, I approached the sounds and parted the grass from where they came. A pixie piano I had found!" -Luna Lark The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The ColossusBy Benjamin Nardolilli
QuailBellMagazine.com I can see the Colossus Has fallen, the bronze corpse Is covered in sheets, A head slides out onto a pillow, A bust laid on its side. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Rapunzel Man and Princess Charming By Christine Stoddard QuailBellMagazine.com In truth, reality's fairy tales are often reversed. The damsel rescues the bum of a bloke. Such was the case with Rapunzel Man—no joke. Sequestered in a tower was Rapunzel Man. He scratched his buns to pass the time, among doing one other thing for which there is no rhyme. Unlike the lovely Rapunzel we all know from the books, Rapunzel Man lacked something in the department of looks. He was wrinkled and wiry, and had a beard many yards long. Oh, what a moping, weeping mess, that Rapunzel Man! Always hoping to escape! Always keeping to himself! Lonely and desperate, he had stopped chanting, “I can.” For he could not. For he would not. For he should not. When an evil witch puts a nasty spell on your tower, you wouldn't dare leave before the final hour, especially if she told you she'd cut off your prized beard. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Hello, fledglings...Welcome to QB's premiere blogroll for our famed "Unreal" section--featuring art, literature, and media that's quirky, whimsical, or just plain weird. Please check back as we continually add new content!
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