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poetry and prose

Home Posts tagged Tag: fiction

Tag: fiction

PROSE: Chasing Regrets

Posted on July 16, 2018February 6, 2019 by Sophie

  He rapped his knuckles against the side of his glass. His nerves were getting the better of him. Scraps of apologies flitted around in his head, but he couldn’t make anything coherent from them. Nothing that she would accept. … Continue reading »PROSE: Chasing Regrets

Categories: Prose

PROSE: Recall

Posted on September 9, 2017February 6, 2019 by Sophie

The cigarette dangles from his hand, dropping ash on the scuffed surface of the table. He doesn’t notice. His eyes are focused on a spot on the dark wood, but his gaze is turned inward, sifting through the fog of … Continue reading »PROSE: Recall

Categories: Prose

New York Sour, Issue #7

Posted on June 18, 2016 by Sophie

Issues #1-6 The door opens and I’m met by a South-American woman with her dark hair swept back into a bun. She stares at me as I introduce myself and hand her my card. She examines it, stares at me … Continue reading »New York Sour, Issue #7

Categories: Episodic Fiction, New York Sour

Yo, aren’t you supposed to be…

Posted on May 28, 2016 by Sophie

…reading? Studying? Writing? Writing that other thing? Editing New York Sour? Writing your essay? Blogging?   I like the feeling after you hand in an essay, and there’s a sweet cool breeze that comes with freedom. You don’t have to … Continue reading »Yo, aren’t you supposed to be…

Categories: On Writing

New York Sour, Issue #6

Posted on May 15, 2016August 18, 2016 by Sophie

Read from the first issue HERE ~~~   I wake face-down on a white sheet. Glad I made it to bed at all, and that’s all I care about this time of the morning. I’m too old to fall asleep … Continue reading »New York Sour, Issue #6

Categories: Episodic Fiction, New York Sour

PROSE: Resurrection Men

Posted on January 17, 2016November 23, 2016 by Sophie

The night was dark, the moon a sliver in the western sky. It hid behind a cloud, from time to time peeking out to cast its faint light down upon the world. In the cemetery, there was activity. Johnson put … Continue reading »PROSE: Resurrection Men

Categories: Prose

“I got eight slugs in me. One’s lead, and the rest are bourbon.”

Posted on August 23, 2014December 21, 2018 by Sophie

In fiction, my “guilty pleasure” – for lack of a better term – is detective pulp fiction. Film noir, hard-boiled dialogue, the heavy bitter melodrama, and our protagonist, if one could call him that – the classic cliché Private Eye. … Continue reading »“I got eight slugs in me. One’s lead, and the rest are bourbon.”

Categories: On Writing
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