Literary as hell.

Tag: literature (Page 9 of 9)

Nanna’s House by Callum Lofts

Callum Lofts is an emerging actor and writer based in Sydney, Australia. He has been a regular contributor to online magazine Yeahnah.tv and been featured on Thought Catalog. He recently toured Adelaide for their Fringe festival with his comedy show, Maverick and Ferris’ Eight Steps to SUCCESSP. He recently has been offered a place at the Bristol Old Vic Theatre School, which he will attend in early September.

Follow him on twitter here: @callumlofts

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“Bee, Telephone, Flower” by Rebecca Lawhorne

Check out a new essay titled “Bee, Telephone, Flower” by Rebecca Lawhorne, below.

Rebecca Lawhorne was born on a Christian commune in rural Alaska, but was migrated to an island in Florida. After years of feeling like she was missing out on an essential part of the human experience, brutal weather and wild animals, she moved herself back north. She now shares her life with two farm-raised women and their dogs, practices subsistent living and attends the Univeristy of Alaska, Fairbanks, studying under poets Derick Burleson and Sean Hill. You can pick her brain at moonpixie.tumblr.com and tune into her radio show “Hipstery” on KSUAradio.

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Holiday Submissions

Hello!

Remember, last month, how it was October and we were taking Halloween submissions? Well now it’s November and we are taking holiday themed submissions through December! January will be bleak.

You can win the glory of the Internet by sending us your holiday writing and art. What makes you feel warm and fuzzy? What do you hate about the holidays? Love? Celebrate? Ignore?

Tell us and we might be less furious.

-The Editors

“Lights Out” by Mauricio Castillo

“Wait, punch out, c’mon, punch out!”
I hear the referee’s words faintly as I try to sneak in an uppercut that’s probably illegal but what the ref don’t see, don’t happen. “The Shark” finally shoves me off and as I jump back, I feel the blood running down my cheek again. I thought it had stopped bleeding, damn. The cut is deeper than I figured it was. It had come from a wicked right-cross in the fourth round that glanced over my left eyebrow and opened up some old scar tissue. Coach told me to keep my hand up, but I guess I just got a little cocky. We all get a little cocky sometimes. Somehow we always end up paying for it, too. Ever since then it’s been an uphill battle. I know I won Rounds 1 and 2, but I’m in this asshole’s backyard. Chances are the rounds are closer than I believe them to be.
“Oh! Time! Go to your corners.” Continue reading

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