The Furious Gazelle

Literary as hell.

Category: Writing (Page 21 of 50)

“Piper,” a short story by Kale Bandy

November 10, 2017 /

I’m fast. Put me on the line, the gun in the air, the white girls next to me, and the Latinas talking right to the moment the powder ignites, and I blow by them. The wind on my skin tears the sweat from my arm hair as my muscles pump. 100 meters in and I’ll have the lead by the length of my outstretched legs. By the end of the race, the Latinas stare open-mouthed, and the white girls will wipe the supposedly waterproof mascara from their cheeks while I break the tape and take my place on the podium.

“Winner of the girls’ 400 meter run: Piper Dupree,” the announcer would say.

“Piper. Piper Dupree,” Mrs. G says snapping her fingers. My eyes snap to her for a moment before wandering to the white board behind her.

“Yeah, here,” I say rolling my eyes. She sees me, gives me the eye. I like Mrs. G, and if I graduate, I’ll miss her. She’s the only one who takes my shit. Continue reading

Poetry by Natalie Crick

October 6, 2017 /

Like Smoke

November curled itself around my

Spine like cigarette smoke,

Seeping into me.

December froze in her grey web.

I want to wake from the dark,

Sleep naked in moon-cooled dirt,

Deep in the night where graves

Spread like black pollen.

I am where the wind

Snuffs out candles,

Can touch a curtain like a ghost,

Like a bell.

Like the dead I escort

Sap to want.

Continue reading

“In Gilded Palaces,” a play in one act, by Ethan Warren

September 29, 2017 /

“Sorrow is concealed in gilded palaces, and there’s no escaping it.”

–The Double, Fyodor Dostoyevsky

 

CHARACTERS

PETE – in his late 20s, a guy who can blend into the background of any room. He’s made enough traumatic emotional messes to be guarded and measured, avoiding any big emotion.

 

MAYA – in her late 20s, a woman whose default setting is lively joy, but since her husband’s death she hasn’t had the energy, or even looked very hard, though she’s working on getting it back.

 

WENDY – in her late 20s, a sweet, thoughtful woman who’s too nervous to be completely supportive when her friend needs her.

 

DOCTOR – in his 60s, a warm and connected psychiatrist who still holds himself at a good, professional reserve (though this character is written as male here, the role could be played by any gender).

 

FRIEND (voice) – in his late 20s, affable but distant.

Continue reading

“The Baby,” a short story by Simona Galant

September 15, 2017 /

The baby appeared on the doorstep of 12.5 Pleasant Lane at 9:37 in the morning on Friday, while Kate was watching the local news and Andy was in the shower upstairs. There was a loud rap on the front door, and she thought briefly about her roommate Hannah’s excessive online shoe purchasing habit. Kate opened the door and was about to scream but the baby was asleep and she wanted to hear the news so she decided not to.

“Forecasts are looking steadily grim for Poughkeepsie this afternoon— the heat is proving itself relentless, and there have been reports of dogs melting in the streets. To prevent your dogs from melting we advise you to keep them inside. Should you happen to see a dog unattended be sure to remind it of the dangers of 116 degree weather, as they often do not watch the news.”

The baby was in a plastic bin without a lid, one of those Rubbermaid containers from Target with the foldable handles. It was laying on a purple fleece blanket that was folded hamburger-hotdog and was wearing a cop-themed jumpsuit. “My hero wears a badge!” was embroidered in swirly letters. Continue reading

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