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Pork Soda, Broken Teeth like Stars, Viagra and Voodoo, and One Soul Sold.
One hell of a show, literally, for episode 47, where six heavyweights throw down their styles to make one definitive bang on the drum of literature, pushing that frequency out beyond here, into the particles of the endless unkown. We hope when the waves are picked up in any future or past, to whomever receives the signal, it sounds like a mix of Slayer, Mozart, and Waylon Jennings.
Here's a link to the show.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UH5Cst6UrK0
And here are the pieces featured.
https://www.theprose.com/post/818923/wag-spill https://www.theprose.com/post/819167/kitchen-employee https://www.theprose.com/post/818507/uncle-noah
https://www.theprose.com/post/818503/eye-of-the-dodo https://www.theprose.com/post/818502/phantom https://www.theprose.com/post/818795/seven-seconds-in-hell
And.
As always.
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team
From Charleston with love, lost keys, disruption, and other people.
Mavia returns for another one as our guest narrator in episode 46, reading six pieces. The Hell of other people never sounded so beautiful...
Here's a link to the show.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q_-Kdrqbzs8
And here are the featured pieces.
https://www.theprose.com/post/817603/lenfer-cest-les-autres-jean-paul-sartre https://www.theprose.com/post/817432/lost-your-keys https://www.theprose.com/post/817976/heaven-lies-in-me-and-you
https://www.theprose.com/post/817509/hell-is-other-people https://www.theprose.com/post/817470/im-hiding https://www.theprose.com/post/817435/les-autres
And.
As always.
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team
1. Illinois sucks anyway
I sit in my darkened room, staring at the old Brittney Spears poster that fell off my wall two weeks ago. I've decided it's not worth my time picking it up. my eyes drift to the digital clock on my decades-old pink vanity—7:45 am. I'm running late. I let out a heavy sigh and lift my emotionally malnourished body off of the creaky twin-sized bed that I've slept in since second grade.
The emotional hermit of a human I call Mom hasn't refurbished my room since my dad died. When he committed suicide Karol decided that she'd take up a hobby in apathy. She doesn't talk to me until absolutely necessary and doesn't seem to care about anything I do since I got out of ED recovery. She never seems to notice that the only time I ever even leave my room is for school, and today is my last day, after today, I am graduated.
I make my way to the bathroom to wash my face and throw on makeup. I look at the person in the mirror. she looks like me, but half alive. I wash my face and put on enough makeup to hide the paleness of my skin, I muster up a smile and head down to the kitchen. Kallum is standing by the door excitedly. I look at the plate of food my mother left out for me and leave the house. I get in my 2004 Chevy Silverado and drive. Kallum chooses the music, it winds up being some video game music I've never heard of. I crank the volume and keep my eyes on the road. Kallum is rocking out doing air guitar and mouthing the lyrics. I smile to myself. I love him.
we pull into Galena High School. Kallum's eyes light up as he sees his girlfriend. A small black girl with pigtails, blue and pink glitter eyeshadow, and an oversized letterman jacket knocks on my passenger window. Kallum rolls it down and gives her a passionate kiss.
"PDA!" i yell playfully and shoo him out of my car. They both giggle and run off into the school yard. a large purple school bus with the words "CLASS OF 2008!" spray painted on the side pulls into the school parking lot. Jocks pour out of the badly painted bus and start chanting.
"C.L.A.S.S of 20 06, C.L.A.S.S of 20 06". I roll up my passenger window, put in the new Amy Winehouse CD, and wait for the bell to ring. I run to class, trip 4 times and make it into Ms. Sanchez's class with 26 seconds to spare.
Ms. Sanchez is the best teacher in the entire school. she's taken care of me all year and helped me pass all my classes, now i get to spend my last day in her classroom. I know everyone but i don't really have friends, it never really bothered me until Ms. Sanchez says the worst sentence an introvert could hear.
"Everyone find a partner". I have a mini panic attack and wind up partnering with the teacher, which I don't mind but everyone will give me weird looks. but at this point, I'm used to being looked at this way. we play a trivia game. you pick a random prompt, and you have to answer it about one of the people in the partnership and see if you come up with the same answer. luckily I've eaten lunch with Sanchez all year and I know more about her than any of the students.
"favorite color? 1, 2, 3!" i smirk
"Purple!" we say in unison
"Spirit animal?"
"Albatross!"
"Dream travel destination?"
"I don't know this one," she says to me with an eyebrow raised
"Amsterdam" I respond shyly
"That's a good answer though" she chuckles "Illinois sucks anyway"
I feel good.
Mavia, Paris, Why Write & What You Love...
Mavia returns as our guest narrator in episode 43, delivering her signature silk reads, featuring two writers, and three pieces. Beautiful work, beautiful sound. We absolutely love this episode.
Here's the channel link.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t7aUCFNz2iA
And here are the featured pieces.
https://www.theprose.com/post/123361/an-airplane-for-innocence https://www.theprose.com/post/363421/repose-en-paix https://www.theprose.com/post/169866/do-what-you-love
And.
As always...
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team
Technically Speaking
Technically Speaking
May 27, 2024
I went shopping yesterday.
I always wondered if I could lift $200 worth of groceries.
I no longer worry if I can.
I went to the local mall within walking distance.
The mall was open.
The shops were closed.
By not driving my car, I have lost 35 pounds this year.
My old clothes are back in style.
Because I cannot afford new clothes.
I have a single deck of cards.
Someone asked what that was.
Now they know how to play gin rummy.
I count my pennies.
The new ones are made of zinc, not copper.
I lose money by wasting my time on such efforts.
Today, I had the day off from my two jobs.
I sat in the park and began reading Jack London’s, “To Build a Fire”.
I now have skills not useful where I live.
I discovered a week old newspaper in the trash.
The news was new to me, although boring.
Only the crossword puzzle held my attention.
Technically speaking, I was born 50 years too late.
Technically speaking, I tapped out when TV tuned in.
Technically speaking, I miss not missing so many things.
I covet afternoon World Series games via transistor radios.
I would forfeit 24 hour cable news to regain the former.
I could listen to British Invasion music for the first time again.
I definitely would enjoy Star Wars as a 12 year old again.
I may even exchange a week of my life
For a day of stickball and a Davy Crockett hat.
Technically Speaking of course.
Older
Pinch me now
You're caught in my crossfire
Fell into
Your arms, but they got tired
We're so good aren't we
Till it just stops working
Almost like
We tore out the same page, and
Left a lot of
Room for the same mistakes you
Never quite let me in
Till it gets bad again
I'll stop waving a flag
I'll just drop all caring for that
I go quiet
And you go cold
Hope it passes before
We get
Older
Humour me
Be honest do you
Need a break from me
I see you suffocating
But won't you just look at me
Or am I too draining
You spent hours awake
Holding me, said it was okay
I was crying
But you got tired
Hope it passes before
We get
Older
Banned Books Broadened.
When we thought of the Challenge, "Write the first chapter to the sequel of your favorite banned book," we agreed that the entries might be few compared to the other Challenges, but they would be things worth reckoning with.
Not to end that sentence with a preposition, but in formal attire it looked pretentious.
The level of writing, and the love for the books from which the work was spun, is purely beautiful.
At the time of recording the video, there were four entries.
Mavia leads the feature with a take on, 'To Kill a Mockingbird,' that is so well-written, it would earn a begrudging grin from Harper Lee, herself.
WhiteWolfe32 follows with '1985,' which is perfect, in so many ways. Absolutely took Orwell’s baby into a 2023 contrast, in the narrator's opinion.
That leads into FarrellTimlake's 'Herd of Pigs,' where a prologue to the sequel of, 'Lord of the Flies,' is written with an airy wonder of sorts, above the weight of itself.
Number four is by Ferryman, with 'Whiskey & Iron," his take on 'The Gunslinger,' currently banned somewhere in Florida. Interesting. He tells the tale in his style, dust and smoke and fear and fate intact.
Here's the link to the channel.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wh13WI7OrWs&t=14s
We'll link the writers and the posts in the comments.
Here's the Challenge.
https://www.theprose.com/challenge/14416
Plenty of time left for more...
Oh.
And.
As always.
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team
Faith and Meth on Friday
Two great things that go great together... But: Before we get to the two featured writers, we want to congratulate Eric Johnson, or ErJo1122 here on Prose., for the near-future release of his book, There's Gold In Those Hills, a collection of short stories that will be available on Kindle the first of next month. We'll link it below if you want to pre-order yours. Congrats, again, Eric, on the accomplishment!
Today, two posts are featured from the Spotlight page, two of our columns in the Pantheon of Prose., two poems by two great men. See the links to the pieces and profiles below.
And here's the link to The Prose. Channel for their narrations.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kLYWh60Mnoc
And.
As always.
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team
Short Story Collection Being Released
Hi everyone!
I just wanted to share that I'll be releasing a collection of short stories on February 1st. Many of the stories in this collection have been featured here, while others haven't. If anyone is interested, you can find it on Amazon here:
https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B0CRQZTJM5/ref=sr_1_1?crid=CRDHZ7RB04E0&keywords=theres+gold+in+those+hills&qid=1704751382&sprefix=theres+gold+in+those+hill%2Caps%2C185&sr=8-1
I'm pretty excited about this and I just wanted to thank The Prose community for being the major reason for this collection. Before I joined this community, my writing was directionlesss and you've help me find direction.
So, thanks everyone!
Without me, Without you
We have played this game since the end of it,
Who can act like they never cared the most?
You ended it,
But I cut contact.
This is what started it,
I couldn't stand being the stray who did you favors,
having me be your therapist,
but you didn't even reach out after the accident,
That's when I knew and I walked away from your sadness and sorrows.
Nobody tells you how much silence hurts,
stuck in a room with someone who used to fill you with such happiness,
now only unsaid bombs plague the air.
Who knew silence could cut me to the core?
You were bitter and in turn, lashed out,
In turn, I became bitter too,
because how could you care so deeply then hurt me so for putting me first?
something you knew I already had great trouble with,
but you couldn't let it go and had to make it that much harder.
You kept hurting me because you couldn't handle how life treated me.
So I took it a step further and removed myself from all aspects of your life.
I let the ocean sweep me away
because I couldn't take the shore beating on me any longer.
If you cared so little why did you keep watch of me like a guard dog?
We were caught in a never-ending dance of who could do the most damage,
I did mine by removing myself,
you always hated that I could leave so easily when I knew my time was up
because you could never do the same, letting people abuse you for fun.
You did yours by making me a number,
you knew I hated how you could rank me on your scale in your notes,
skillfully threatening where my name would end up on that list,
you never knew how to hold back did you?
Then one night you visited me once again,
we were where we first met,
we were just kids, yet we were here all grown up now.
I carried on as if nothing happened laughing like my life depended on it.
You questioned me then,
You broke the fourth wall of my dream
and asked why I was so happy after everything that has happened
I was taken aback it is my dream after all, so why can't we just enjoy it?
I replied that I had learned and moved on,
I have grown from what you have put me through
and have chosen to put it behind me.
You paused baffled at the way I carried myself.
I then asked how you have been dealing with life,
We talked about everything with no hindrance or malice,
and when we were both content with the conversation,
The morning came.
With it so did the confusion of the rawness that a dream could hold.
I just pray you were there in that dream too,
That we talked and connected about what happened,
That you got the same closure I did,
even if it was never really you who gave it to me.