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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The Anthology
Readers’ Comments
- On "Kritios Boy": A beautifully written essay that resonates with some of my own experience with a lost love. thank you. – Susan Charney
May 21 - On "The Last Sister": Thank you for taking the time to read poetry and to write this lovely note! – Tracy DeBrincat
May 21 - On "Matt Burke": Your creations are wonderful, Matt! As an artist myself, I have always been attracted to wood because of its magnificent definition in the natural state.... – Gippy Henry
May 21 - On "The Past Life Hypnotist Predicts The Future": In my humble opinion, this is a wonderful piece of work. Although fiction it's about a subject that many question in this time period. More... – Gippy Henry
May 21 - On "The Last Sister": Love your poetry! So much sensory details, metaphors taking the past toward the future is exhilarating. The constant reference to not living in the past... – Gippy Henry
May 21 - On "The Other Chair": This is a wonderful essay. I applaud the way you worked yourself as a prior patient into the field. Studied psychology and the brain at... – Gippy Henry
May 21 - On "Birding by Ear": Awesome, lovely poem! I definitely want to read more work by Susan Cohen! – S.D. Lishan
May 21 - On "Birding by Ear": Excellent piece. I loved the tension, and the rhythm. As well as the juxtaposition of the ages, both the husband and the teacher, and the... – Christine Nichols
May 15
- On "Kritios Boy": A beautifully written essay that resonates with some of my own experience with a lost love. thank you. – Susan Charney


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….