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Everyone Leaves By Aden Harry QuailBellMagazine.com July 7
I always preferred rain. Most people can’t stand getting wet but I’ve never really had a thing for the July sun. Today it’s scorching and I’m sweaty and irritated and sticky and I don’t have the patience to cope with Carl’s energy levels, the mother’s stress, the father’s snorting... Annnd yet another fight in this alleged family home where, allegedly, everyone is so exhausted from all the effort they put in to trying to keep the family together! Everyday is the same – so painful and so full of bullshit, but at the very least it’s given me an urge to do something; to write, seriously, for the first time in my life. No more snippets. No more half-page empty ranting that could be scribbled down by any other boring, whiny, ordinary girl July 8 I don’t think I've slept well enough for months now. My eyelids drop by themselves, probably puffed out (I don’t dare look in the mirror) and filled with something infectious. It’s only a quarter past four – the sun's rays haven't even really hit the ground yet, and here I am; so, so tired, yet completely awake. I won’t be able to sleep again for over twelve hours now. I really need Carl to grow up, and FAST! Let the battles commence! Let us fine people wake up every last sleeping soul in this tired old village. What could it be now; who makes today's breakfast? Who takes ruffy (dog) for a walk? What happened to teamwork? Ah... HA! Pathetic. They’re putting words in each others’ mouths, scoring points over ‘who communicates with the other the worst.’ Their harsh voices have near driven me to run away. Hmm... Why moan anyway? One hour: 8:30, and I'll be out of this place, heading for college. College is my second world, not even offering so much as a break from my first. When I first got there, I thought I’d be going from school to college with a new beginning; a new life altogether. But when I got there I was drowned in a flood of familiar faces and thus, my second world; my second hell, was established. I can't sit here on this jagged rock for much longer. Who knows what just happened between Kristine and I? Never has one of my friends exploded into a fit of insults and degradation at me like that before... I suppose I'll be walking the rest of the way to college myself, eyes to the floor. No, I didn't need that at all. No college today. My brain is dead. Kristine has killed me. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Water GoddessPhotographer: Stephanie Toll
Models: Katy Rhodes and Katie Santmyer QuailBellMagazine.com The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Q&A With a Sleeping MonsterBy Holly Day QuailBellMagazine.com reclining in his midnight coffin satin forms his favorite pillow, elvin frail and pale as death—“what’s happened to my son?” she screams and tries to look behind the smile the eyes, so tightly closed she pulls the lids apart in hopes of finding answers to questions she should never ask. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Between Scales and FeathersAnimated by Celina Suh Written by Christine Stoddard Music composed by Ben Harsel QuailBellMagazine.com The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Chrome CadenzaBy Alexander C. Kafka QuailBellMagazine.com cool
to the touch with fire in her taut tanked belly roar to the shore horizon breathed from a diesel flat bed ahead on split plains of dusty lusty bereavement for days gone by lovers scraped off hard headed denials of what he felt she felt he couldn't give her reproach kick starts his winded tears the blast through helmet shield not enough the noise too not enough to drown out her hurt sobs her tough angry mouth as she spat and turned away but here riding blue with him forever temptress fortress at 93 mph gravel eroded regret coming fast The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Submit your stories.Want a drawing of yourself riding a quail? Then enter QB's first ever fiction writing contest. All you have to do is follow our standard submission guidelines, except put "Fiction Contest Entry" in the subject of your email (instead of the usual.) All entries must be submitted by September 15, 2012. If you win, a member of The QB Crew will draw a picture of you riding a quail and will mail you the original. A copy of the image will also appear on our website. No joke. Now, submit...because you know you want to own something absolutely absurd.
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TrolicBy Angus English QuailBellMagazine.com (This gentleman artist responded to our most recent Craigslist ad. You should, too.)
The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
LondonBy Ben Harsel QuailBelleMagazine.com “I would like to investigate the kids in London who are sitting on the park benches eating their sandwiches all perfect and hearty. All they do is enjoy high quality meats and cheeses between homemade bread slices. Some guy endorsed them to do this. They would be happy to do it anyway.” The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
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