Boys Get Scared Too: Part 2 (Louis Toliver Jr-Austin, TX)

It was after the sixth ring, Lucas was slowly eating, watching the phone, Kevin was looking at the other guys, and Jake stood staring at the phone glancing at Kevin.

"Um, that's six times now. Unavailable. No message," Jake itched his groin then looked at Kevin. "This is kinda freaking me out."

"Ha, well smoking pot is off the table," Lucas slurped the milk from the bowl. "It's a wrong number. I'm sure."

"Why would someone dial a number six times in a row, no message," Jake came and sat at the table with the other two. Kevin was sitting quietly. The phone rang again.

"Seven times," Lucas added. "Why would they call seven times?"

"How about we just answer the phone?" Kevin leaped up and snatched the cordless phone. "Who is this?" There was just silence. "Hello? Hello?" The phone hung up. Kevin hung up the phone.

"Who was it?" Jake asked.

"I don't know. They just hung up." Kevin grew nervous. "Maybe we should put some clothes on and go somewhere or something."

"Put clothes on? Screw that? I'm about to to enjoy this freedom. No parents. Get butt-ass naked and go swimming in your pool." Lucas got up and took all his clothes off. "Pussies are scared of phones. Grow a pair, like mine," Lucas started flopping his penis in Kevin's face and slapping his backside. "You can worry about the phone. Jake, throw me a beer," Jake did and Lucas flew to the pool.

The phone rang again.

"Jake. This is driving me crazy." Kevin picked up the phone. "Hello?"

A deep sinister voice began, "Is this Kevin?"

Kevin paused, "Um, yeah."

"Is Jake there?" The sinister voice asked.

"Jake, he wants to know if you're here," Kevin looked over to Jake.

Jake grabbed the phone, "Who is this?"

"Is Lucas there?" The sinister voice asked.

"We're all here, bitch. Who is this?"

Jake yelled.

"Good. You'll find out soon." The sinister voice became a dial tone.

Comments

Come Hither (Annette Redmond Walters - Lafayette, LA)

I meant it not this way but the tears just flow and my makeup smearing all the more, leaving behind that familiar filthy residue. I may have begun to drive myself away, dragging you down as well. But it's done, I've flipped the switch and now it's dark once more. How painful is the music to my ears, I can't stand to be alone in it, yet here I am again. I pray you fly back and safely and warmly to me, though I fear I've dug the grave too deeply. As the dirt shifts within my soul, I choke on those loving words I'd meant for you. All the fragments of light I see becoming smaller and I wish to be near you in your embrace that might make me feel the warmth I'm missing. And in reality, I doubt I'd breathe another breath without you. So come hither and quickly soothe my dying heart, you are the only cure I know. I cry and cry again, come hither to heal and love me. Come hither and help me dry my tears.

Let That Fucker Burn (John Chenvert - Napoleonville, LA)

Let that fucker burn. Let the fire crackle like the whips once did— like bone meeting leather, like screams swallowed by the trees. Let the white columns crumble to ash. Not as tragedy— but as truth, unearthing itself from beneath generations of silence. Nottoway is not a mansion. It’s a mausoleum. A lie carved in stone to honor the hands that held the whip, not the backs that bore it. They called it the “White Castle.” A place of beauty. A place for weddings, for photo ops, for pretending that horror can be made elegant if the curtains match the guilt. But no paint can cover what happened there. Blood doesn’t wash out with white linens. And pain doesn’t forget just because you renamed it history. I’m not Black. And I won’t pretend to carry that weight. But I also won’t ignore it. My people—the Guanches—were taken too. Our language silenced. Our land stolen. Our names nearly erased. So yes, I know colonization. Yes, I know what it means to be disappeared. But I also know this— my skin ...

Dysfunctional (Taylor Coen - Lafayette, LA)

The flower sits before the tree, it is like an antagonist of nature. The rainbows fall against the clouds: colors burst into a buffet of light. Rain travels down into a puddle of water portraying the sight of an ugly ox. The strength is weak; it collapses to the ground, life flows out like a stream of consciousness. Back to the daisy and the overpowering oak, A lightning bolt strikes both. The war fades over, the mist evaporates, and sunshine gli mmers down upon a hidden valley.

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