Boys Get Scared Too: Part 3 (Louis Toliver Jr-Monroe, LA)

"So..." Jake stared at the phone and then looked at Kevin. "You and Lucas must be pulling a joke on me...cause, yeah. We can stop now."

"Or...you and Lucas are pulling a joke on me," Kevin returned the accusation.

They both thought for a second and yelled together, "Lucas!" They went in the backyard to the pool, but there was no Lucas to be found nor any ripples in the pool.

"Lucas! Where the hell are you?" Kevin yelled again. He looked at Jake.

"Where can a naked teenage boy go but inside the house, right?" Jake asked.

After what seemed like hours went by searching and searching. There was still no signs of Lucas. Then the phone rang again.

Kevin picked up the phone, "Lucas! Stop fucking around, man!"

"This isn't Lucas," the sinister voice laughed. "He tastes good. Want some?"

"What are you talking about?" Kevin asked and then put he phone on speaker.

"His testicle was the best part. My favorite. I saved some for you," the voice laughed hysterically.

"Lucas! This is sick!" Jake yelled frustrated.

"Lucas is in the refrigerator, chilling out," then there was a dial tone.

Kevin and Jake looked at each other in the dead silence. Kevin walked to the refrigerator opening it slowly. Jake threw up immediately at the sight. There was Lucas in pieces: head, intestines, and what looked like his private parts, scattered. Blood all inside.

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 ...

Lunatic (Lily Lechler - New Orleans, LA)

“Lunacy” comes from the moon, Who cycles through brilliance and darkness Bipolarity’s patterns are not so easily assumed Opposites not so well harnessed Who cycles through brilliance and darkness? The girl who sits in bed, wrestling with Opposites. Not so well harnessed As she thought, her brain gives reason the slip The girl who sits in bed, wrestling with Her body, depressed, her thoughts manic. As she thought, her brain gave reason the slip And gives the gift of life in a dreamlike panic. Her body depressed her thoughts. Manic Lunacy comes from the moon And gives the gift of life in a dreamlike panic Bipolarity’s patterns are not so easily assumed

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