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The Anthology
Check out The Literal Latte Anthology — great selections from our first 15 years!
Readers’ Comments
- On "Kritios Boy": I am re- reading this for the millionth time, through tears, once again. It is absolutely perfect! – Laurel Wexman
Jan 26 - On "Losing My Mind and Getting a New One": Beautifully movingly written so, Thank God, the talent and ability is still somehow, miraculously, intact. – Antonie Becker
Nov 21 - On "My Own Personal Mr. Crabtree": Garry, you mentioned this piece at the PVTU meeting - nicely written. It had me searching around, as things like this tend to do, for... – Jim Brennan
Nov 17 - On "NOTE: We are NOT currently taking submissions (except Fiction Awards until Jan 2020)": Hello All, Are you taking submissions for the June 2022 contest? – Dan Minnock
Mar 08 - On "I Made It Myself": Dear James, Thank you for sharing this outstanding essay. My father also built a "Z-Box" and I've recently taken up learning its backstory, even if... – D. Oakleaf
Jan 03 - On "NOTE: We are NOT currently taking submissions (except Fiction Awards until Jan 2020)": We're near the end of 2021. When will the 2020 Fiction Contest results be announced? – F. J. Bergmann
Dec 11 - On "Seeing The Inca Trail": Blimey - what a read........we just celebrated a UK and anyone else who could make it - Cusichaca reunion at our home in Scotland -... – Dawn Holmes
Sep 15 - On "NOTE: We are NOT currently taking submissions (except Fiction Awards until Jan 2020)": Thanks, Richard, that is much appreciated! You stay safe, too! – Literal Latte
Dec 18 - On "NOTE: We are NOT currently taking submissions (except Fiction Awards until Jan 2020)": Hi James and Michelle (and other writers who have inquired) -- We're truly sorry about the delay. It looks like results for the fiction contest... – Literal Latte
Dec 18
- On "Kritios Boy": I am re- reading this for the millionth time, through tears, once again. It is absolutely perfect! – Laurel Wexman
Virgin Flight 244, Chicago to Heathrow
In airborne darkness, the pain of birth. She grabs her neck just above the locket and feels the pointy head of a small creature emerge from the hollow in her throat. It gives a soft bleat. Reeling, she holds the small idea in her hand, amazed that such a bloody, furry thing could have come from someone like her. Palms cupped, she shields it from the sleeping passengers nearby-like any newborn, it nestles deeper, afraid of the world. Her throat bleeds onto her pale yellow blouse; despite the splintering pain of speech, she whispers eager reassurances.
"I will nurture you. You'll grow."
Her husband shifts; her reawakening sends fingers of lightning to rouse him.
"What is that?" he demands.
Her hands open into a tulip. He peers in and draws back sharply. He has seen only its helplessness, but that is enough.
"Yours, I suppose?"
She nods, mute, as the delicate thing casts its swollen black eyes at them.
"You're bleeding, you know. It looks bad."
The intercom pings a Captain's announcement. The thing bleats in response, loudly, fearfully. People are starting to shift in their sleep. She holds it close. It bleats again.
He reaches across her and twists, silencing it.
"I'm doing you a favor."
Sadly, she's already bled to death. He opens her locket and finds only himself.
Someone offers him a drink which he accepts, and when the flight attendant walks by with the flimsy white garbage bag, he has many things to put inside.
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