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SHORT STORY

Rendered Futile

· ADRIAN VINO ·

Rendered Futile

Love crawled in through the window of my condominium, in the dark while all was still, the cobalt-blue nightlight flickered in the corner next to the Pinocchio marionette that sits there motionless. The window slid open slowly almost motionless. And the bite of the winter night followed. She scrawled on my soft designer blanket and…

The Butler Did It

· ADRIAN VINO ·

The Butler Did It

“Someone just killed the butler. I promise, he died with a smile, at least he had one when I found him.”   The dining table decidedly drove the drove from miles around and now seated one and all to finely dine from oak and wine; a lawyer, a baker, a butcher, a waiter, the dentist…

The Way Home

· FRANZ KAFKA ·

The Way Home

See what a persuasive force the air has after a thunderstorm! My merits become evident and overpower me, though I don’t put up any resistance, I grant you. I stride along and my tempo is the tempo of all my side of the street, of the whole street, of the whole quarter. Mine is the…

Further Still

· ADRIAN VINO ·

Further Still

A group of children, laughing, breathing heavily, some holding hands, ran in reverse past the red fern before me, through a shallow creek, into a creaking barn and were swallowed by the darkness therein. The sinking sound of rushing rapids in the distance, pulled upon my chin with seducing slumber, and I fought and fought,…

Worship

· ADRIAN VINO ·

Worship

The sultry surge of nothing left my eyelids as we conversed with surreptitious candor, the evening beckoned bitterly and foreshadowed the closing of a day one day not remembered. The darkling thrush thrashed outside the window as running water from a garden hose provided the backtrack for a setting sun. She kept with the wine,…

Writing The Rant

· ADRIAN VINO ·

Writing The Rant

In a double-dealing world of daunting dames and monotonous men, I remain, at least try as much as I possible can, devoid of duplicity. Hyper-analytical to the core, and constantly questioning with a seething skepticism—logic and science my pillars of persistence and self-preservation my torrid truth. Metaphor has constantly played a part in my life;…

The Outsider

· H. P. LOVECRAFT ·

The Outsider

  That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe; And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form Of witch, and demon, and large coffin-worm, Were long be-nightmared. —Keats. Unhappy is he to whom the memories of childhood bring only fear and sadness. Wretched is he who looks back upon lone hours in vast and…

The Sins Of The Father

· ADRIAN VINO ·

The Sins Of The Father

“Thanks for that, Joffrey. We at the network truly appreciate your time,” he said without nuance and pukable normalcy. His typical choice in tie was a daunting distraction. That fucking hairdo was nothing less of hilarious, although I feel that that was understandable–knowing it stemmed from jealousy. The way an eagle covets the shade of…

Almost Done Here

· ADRIAN VINO ·

Almost Done Here

I’m writing this letter. Well, it’s not really a letter. It’s more like an entry. I heard on the television that writing your feelings down might help with your stress. And that it might help with your anger. Do you think that’s true? Hell, I wonder if it will help me get laid. I guess…

Grave

· ADRIAN VINO ·

What atrocities had this aching angel of a fierce fall, turned to and tried and finally held fast all which she thought was good? The upside-down flames of red crashed against her pale and speckled shoulders, and she bowed with a curve and she hissed quite unhinged. It was a dance the way so maddeningly…