Monday, December 31, 2012

Issue Twenty-Six, Volume Four

From the Desk of the Editor;

Welcome one and all to the final issue of Larks Fiction Magazine (for 2012)! In this issue we meet to new indie writers from in and/or around Oklahoma.

In news effective immediately we will be closing submissions for a little while. We are way too backed up and our small staff hasn't been able to pull ourselves out of the slush pile. This isn't good bye forever but we will be waiting before we take more stories.

When we do reopen submissions we will have a brand new shiny email address. Until then however you might try submitting to some of our friends and distant relations listed at the end of today's issue.

Thank you for joining us again and have a happy new year!


Daniel J. Pool

Winter Moon

By Holly Thomson

Winter moon, pale & round

Rising out of a purple ground

on the way

to hold your sway

over men & beast

May your celestial wanderings

never cease

About the poet;

Holly Thomson is a wife, mother, and special education teacher from Oklahoma. She enjoys spending time with family, reading, and writing the occasional verse.

Wake Up Somewhere

By Thaddeus Komula

Wake up somewhere new the screen says to me.

It was one of those adds for vacations to different planets by the travel bureau. Sounds nice but since I don't have enough money to keep my lights on every month its out of the question. watching the end of the infomercial I check the clock. 1:23 am I work at 6. If I get up now I can make it to my factory early. Maybe I can pick up part of a shift. Getting up and walking down the hall to the bathroom is hard some days but today is worse than most. I'm sore again from a night on the couch instead of in bed where I know I should sleep.

Sometimes the weight of the day just comes on to strong. Shower is cold again it should have been fixed last week I need to remember to complain at the next tenants meeting. Breakfast is the same as every morning; boiled egg and dry toast, black coffee. putting the dishes in the sink making and note to myself to remember to clean up when I get home. I put my dull gray uniform on over my boxers and undershirt.

Black socks and black boots laced up and ready to go. I try to remember where I left my keys. On the coffee table like always. Closing and locking my door apt 321 I try not to make much noise in the halls on the way to the elevator. Pressing the lobby button I wait and day dream. I am only on the third floor I should really take the stairs.

The bell dings and the door opens. I get in press lobby the doors close and it starts to descend. Bells ring The door opens to the lobby. I cross and walk out in the the early fall morning air. My car is parked on the street. There aren't any fliers or tickets this time.

The drive to work is about as uneventful as it gets; light traffic and no roadblocks. Picking up some overtime I am on the clock as soon as I get in the door. It seems someone is always sick or out for some reason or another. I go to work making plastic casings for long term sleep shuttles for the travel bureau. I take a break at 4:44 am. More black coffee and a cigarette no—slowing down. Work just goes on. I can't help but think of leaving just taking a vacation and not coming back. 7:45 am bathroom break passing by Frank Ambros in the hall on my way to the pisser waving and saying hello.

Ambros is the boss (well the boss of my shift in the factory, other bosses work the other shifts and they have a boss as well everyone works for bureau or one of the other powers). 1:43 pm is lunch and then its all a downward slide, cleaning my station and product checking for the new hires, mine all score fine. leaving work and going to the convenience store for my after work purchases cigarettes and beer the register reads $8.88 I pay the cashier with a ten grabbing my change and purchases I get in my car and drive home.

Wake up somewhere new the screen says to me.

It was one of those adds for the vacation service to distant planets.

I still don't have the money to get out of this place. Its 1:12 am.

About the author;

Thaddeus Komula is a writer, musician, and dreamer from Oklahoma.

Thank you for reading this special edition of Larks Fiction Magazine. Make sure to keep checking back for more great articles, poetry, stories, music videos, and art from rising independent minds in 2013!

Also make sure to check out our friends and distant relations in the writing world:

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