Writers of fiction, poetry, lyrics, screenplays and life stories come from diverse backgrounds. For the past three years a small group has met weekly to write together, offering criticism and support to whoever stopped by. Over 200 different people have dropped by; we learned something from each one of them. Most of the people who found us had already written for years- some even published.

If this is something that interests you, join us! We meet every Wednesday, from 9 AM - 10:30 at the Jesus Center on Park Avenue.



Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Achen, Luenda and Cardomon





      “Knock-knock… ”
      “Achen!” Luenda set mallet and chisel down atop her workbench, peeled safety glasses off, hung them on the pegboard and stepped away from shaping staves for a new drum. “This is a welcome interruption, I should get up a fire and make tea.” She brushed wood shavings from her leather apron before giving the visitor a hug.
      “Don’t bother. They filled me up at the Hearth.”
      She made a silly chuckle: “Thanks, it’s too warm to light the stove anyway.” She led the way out of her shop and they sat on a log bench that viewed the little mesa and the Hall.
      “Where’s Edzelian?”

      “Peter took him up to Taralisa and Suthra’s. He has his own cabin there. Close to his new babies. Did you go by Branch House? How is Sunrah?”
      “He’s doing great. I’ve moved there—I’m the lead teacher. That new two room cabin? My billet now: classroom in front, office and bed in the rear. I have the boy full time, Synoveh drops by for the feedings. I think Marcus is a little jealous.”
     “Don’t be ridiculous. He knows that you aren’t a threat.”
     “Not for his wife,” Achen smiled. “Marcus is really fond of Sunrah, doesn’t want to see him go.”
     “Marcus has Luvin. And the boy should be with his Dad.”
     “Yeah—but I’m not his Dad, not anymore. I will always call Sunrah Gardul’s son—not mine. We mixed the semen, and I never want a blood test. I don’t want Sunrah to forget his father just because he never got to know him. I’ll have him call me ‘Uncle’, not ‘Dad’.”

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Catman and Sparrow Wednesday



Midnight passed, Wednesday:
Catman’s initial thought was that he could go to Bradley Wayne’s downtown office but he realized that his keys and his wallet were in his other uniform. He turned the cart around, meandered the alleys and side streets for a while in confusion, then decided to go up Kanes Ravine, he kept a spare Catcave key in a hollow stump.
The cart ran out of gas a mile from downtown, five miles from Kanes Ravine.
An hour into the hike his phone buzzed. He pulled it from a boot pocket and looked at the incoming number, “Hello Miss Strehli. It’s rather late.”
“This is the same hour you visited my apartment last night, Mr. Wayne.”
“I guess it is… How did you get this number? Not even Albert knows this line.”
“I did my research, Mr. Wayne.”
“Why are you calling?—I’m rather indisposed at the moment.”
“I know. I’ve been watching the news. Willie Wilson is offering a one million cash dollars reward to the person that turns you over to him. He wants to unmask the Catman live on global TV.”
“And you want to collect?”
“My only concern is for Richard’s welfare, Mr. Wayne.”
“This is not a good time to talk.”
“There was another story on the news, Mr. Wayne. The police went to Wayne Manor and arrested your butler Albert. They traced the High School bomb threat to his telephone.”
Catman stopped in his tracks, “Albert?”

Saturday, March 1, 2014

End of the Brothel--Updated


   Another tiring night, the men were in a poor mood and took their pleasure roughly, made bruises. Then the guards did their flush fueled sadism and left the entire crib exhausted. When the red pills came around the babes all dosed eagerly, anxious to get away from the waking World.
   In dreams Salyanna always went blank, nullified reality completely until the drug wore off.
   A harsh sound intruded, pulled her to a state of grogginess and she sat up. The noise buzzed and brayed—on-off-on-off-on-off—and moving light entered the crib from the window, chased shadows around the wall above her bunk. Mabutu stood next to Kreesha, Honi got out of bed and joined them, they watched the scene outside. Salyanna wobbled to her feet and went to the crowd.
   Past the window guards ran, they carried guns and elevated them. She heard rattling and popping sounds, the gun barrels sparked. Other sparks returned from the darkness at the horizon.
   The window shattered, glass came flying inwards around their heads, a row of holes appeared in the opposite wall. Everybody screamed and ducked, Kreesha pulled the covers over her blue hair.
   Salyanna crawled for her bed and struggled to get underneath. Her girth was too wide, she couldn’t get past the bottom rail. She pulled the mattress down and wedged herself into the angle of wall and floor with the bed pad on top.
   Her cheek to the ground, she saw through a small gap under the mattress, watched Mabutu crawl to the door, his fingernails clawed at the edge and desperately caught it. He pulled it open and scrambled for the hall, away from flying glass.

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Catman and Sparrow



On a Monday:
Pretrial conference in the chambers of Judge Chester Gould, Department Nine of Superior Court, in and for the City, County and State of Gotham:
Defense attorney Dickie Welles spoke, “This is an absurd travesty of justice your Honor. My client has a Fourth Amendment right to confront all witnesses against him. You can’t offer up a statement from a self appointed masked vigilante—this Catman. Even if you can produce him in Court we have no assurance that he is the witness he purports to be, anybody could be under that mask—he looks like a Mexican wrestler! We have no method to effectively cross-examine an anonymous witness. Therefor I insist that all charges be dropped forthwith.”
The Judge gazed over the top of his glasses at the prosecutor, “I’m surprised this challenge hasn’t come up before—I’ve expected it for years, haven’t you, Bonny?”
“Your Honor, the Jester has a lengthy criminal history, he is a hardened social deviant and extremely dangerous. It is unthinkable for you to order his release—the Catman’s statement is fully supported by all the forensic evidence.”
“His statement initiated what amounts to unlawful search and seizure, none of that evidence is admissible. I’m sorry Bonny. Case dismissed.”

Meanwhile, in the large estate atop Gotham Heights the telephone rang:
“Wayne Manor, this is the butler, Albert, speaking. How may I be of assistance?”
“This is Aretha Strehli, of Gotham Child Protective Services. Is Mr. Bradley Wayne available please?”
“I’m sorry, Master Wayne is indisposed at the moment. May I take a message?”

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Broken Pieces


In my hands I hold my heart broken and shattered
I try to put it back together from the pieces I’ve gathered
But some of the pieces are lost, broken, of stole
I’m questioning if my heart can ever again be whole

Then you came into my life and found the pieces that seemed to hide
Revealing pieces I thought I never again could find
Helping me put it back together I hope that you can see
How broken and fragile my heart can really be
So if you’ll hold my hand and stay by my side while it heals
Maybe we can find out how true love really feels

Summer

Monday, January 20, 2014

Cardomon: The Poker Party





     Daytimes Mabutu lingered near the crib door, tried to view as much beyond as possible without being observed himself. He studied the guard’s routines, and he investigated the door.
     It was cheap, solid, swung inward, the latch had no parts on the crib side of the entry.
     He tried an experiment, wadded a small piece of cloth and wedged it into the lock strike. That night, when the guards finished, they dispensed the red pills and left the crib, slamming the door behind. Mabutu didn’t swallow his dose, once the guards were gone he drew out his stash, took half of a white pill and left his red pills. He waited for the cribmates to go silent and he rose, made soft footsteps to the portal.
     Snug in its jamb, with no inner handle, the door was yet a barrier. The cosmetics case contained a short nail file, he got that. It fit into the crack of door and jamb and had just enough grab to pull the door a tiny fraction of an inch. The patient eunuch wriggled his tool back into the slot, pulled again and the door came just a little further—after the seventh nail file probe he had a door edge he could get his fingers onto.
     Mabutu worked at floor level, he gently worried open a crack and checked the scene beyond.
     What he saw of the corridor was empty except for one sentry standing with his back to the guardroom entrance. The man was motionless, feet didn’t shift, eyes didn’t blink, possibly asleep afoot.
     Mabutu waited, resisted drug-jittery nerves, held his lower lip in his teeth and slowed his breathing, fingers twitched, the door wobbled. He closed his eyes, fearing catastrophe.
     The guard didn’t react.
     He watched again, time passed. The guard finally moved, turned around and went through the door behind him. He returned shortly, resumed his vigil.
     Mabutu’s own bladder grew anxious, he decided that he’d seen enough and carefully pushed the door back into its jamb then went into the WC.
      He released his breath, urinated, drank water and was suddenly exhausted. Mabutu stumble-walked to bed, fortunately his was the nearest.

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Cardomon: The End of the Brothel



            Another tiring night, the men were in a poor mood and took their pleasure roughly, made bruises. Then the guards did their flush fueled sadism and left the entire crib exhausted. When the red pills came around the babes all dosed eagerly, anxious to get away from the waking World.

            In dreams Salyanna always went blank, nullified reality completely until the drug wore off.

           A harsh sound intruded, pulled her to a state of grogginess and she sat up. The noise buzzed and brayed—on-off-on-off-on-off—and light entered the crib from the window, threw shadows against the wall over her bunk. Mabutu stood next to Kreesha, Honi got out of bed and joined them, they watched the scene outside. Salyanna wobbled to her feet and went to the crowd.

            Past the window men ran, they carried guns, she heard rattling and popping sounds, the gun barrels sparked.