Latte Archives
Fiction

Spring 2014 Issue

How To Be A Cowboy By S. Brady Tucker

Winner, 2013 Literal Latte Short Short Contest.
By the time he gets there the calf is dead and has been for some time — the meat will be sour and rank by the time it gets to the hooks in the ruined barn; it won’t even be good enough to grind up for stew meat. He sees dollar signs dead in the water, but what’s another lost five hundred dollars at this point?

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Coward By Charles W. Brice

Melba had been running around Cherry Creek with a knife lunging after white people. “Just another crazy nigger,” the cop who brought Melba to our ward said. The cop smelled like rawhide and cigars. His leather belt creaked when he took off Melba’s cuffs. This was 1970 Denver. Martin Luther King was only two years dead. There’d been riots in Denver after he was killed….

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Fall 2013 Issue

With All the Trouble Jesus Went Through He Should at Least Get a Jelly Bean By Heather Tucker

Winner, 2013 Literal Latte Short Short Contest.
Dad’s taken Charlie ahead to ball practice while I continue to scour Sideline 22 for Mom’s uterus. Mom’s always losing something. I don’t mind being left to carry out search and rescue. I suck at ball. Besides, any minute now Lori Penter will be coming home from her piano lesson. She’s forbidden to talk to me on account of the holy war, but if she was allowed, she’d say hi — maybe.

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For Love By Enid Harlow

Second Prize, 2013 Literal Latte Fiction Award.
The mother’s voice was loud. Too loud. The sound was startling. Her eyes were wide and bright. Frank wondered if she was taking drugs herself. A family thing. Or maybe she was plastered, had got herself appropriately inebriated for the occasion. Pickled. The word jumped into his mind, and he thought it apt. Pickled in mind and body for the occasion of her son’s funeral….

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Winter 2013 Issue

The Past Life Hypnotist Predicts The Future By Judith Slater

Winner, 2012 Literal Latte Short Short Contest.
Just a few minutes ago I began to feel the tide tugging a little harder, the fog closing in, and I knew without looking at my watch that it was close to quitting time. I’m tired — bone weary, really. In the space of only one afternoon I took a threesome of middle-aged women back, one by one, to 18th-century Lisbon….

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Mistaken Identity By Enid Harlow

Third Prize, 2012 Literal Latte Fiction Award.
In a corner of the room sits an old man with sparse white hair, face of chalk, and fixed blue eyes. His body is as thin as a cadaver’s and his eyes stare out into the room as if they would seize everything in it and take it down into themselves. The baby at the breast cannot see the old man sitting in the corner….

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Fall 2012 Issue

Sinking the Eight By Marc Nieson

First Prize, 2012 Literal Latte Fiction Award.
It seems your life can be measured. And I’m not talking about notches in a doorway, candles on a cake, or even that line between dates on your tombstone, but individual moments. Split seconds, really, that’ll come along quiet and fleeting as heartbeats yet divert your destinations nonetheless….

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The Limits of Certainty By Renée Thompson

Second Prize, 2012 Literal Latte Fiction Award.
He was most alive while birding. In summer he pitched a tent, prepared his meals on a Coleman stove, and drank coffee from an aluminum cup. He crawled into his sleeping bag just after dusk and rose before sunrise, ate a breakfast of one boiled egg or half a banana, then prepared his field gear…

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Winter 2012 Issue

Swallows By Christie B. Cochrell

Winner, 2011 Literal Latte Short Short Contest.
Isabel would attribute her undoing to that summer in Crete. She would recall how she was minding her own business, reproachlessly conducting research on the iconography of 14th-Century frescoes, when she found God…

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Moss By Christie B. Cochrell

Winner, 2011 Literal Latte Short Short Contest.
“A rolling stone gathers no moss.” That was the creed of the Stone family, proclaimed like God’s own truth by Mr. Stone all through the two boys’ school years…

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