Tall...ish Pure Slush Vol. 11

By Pure Slush

Alex Reece Abbott/Glen Armstrong/David S Atkinson/Paul Beckman/Robert Beveridge/Elizabeth Bruce/Irene Buckler/Guilie CastilloOriard/Kersten Christianson/Martin Christmas/Samuel Cole/Megan Crosbie/Mamta Dalal/Daniel deCullá/William Doreski/Kristina England/Tom Fegan/Cameron Filas/Jennifer Fliss/Bear Jack Gebhardt/Steven Gowin/Shayla Hawkins/Robert Herron/Liam Hogan/Mark Hudson/AJ Huffman/James Croal Jackson/Sean Jackson/Robert Knapman/Michael Koenig/Len Kuntz/Larry Lefkowitz/Cynthia Leslie-Bole/Lara Lillibridge/JP Lundstrom/Jenean McBrearty/Al McDermid/Jolene McIlwain/Todd McKie/Neila Mezynski/Gwendolyn Joyce Mintz/Gary Percesepe/Tim Philippart/Ben Pitts/Winston Plowes/MK Punky/Melisa Quigley/Stephen Ramey/Martha Rand/Alex Robertson/Ruth Sabath Rosenthal/Adina Sara/Wayne Scheer/Martin Shaw/Tom Sheehan/Neil Silberblatt/Rita Simmonds/DM Simone/JJ Steinfeld/Nancy Stohlman/Jan Elman Stout/Susan Tally/KaytieRose Thomas/James Wade/Alan Walowitz/Michael Webb/Mercedes Webb-Pullman/Aaron Wiegert

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pure Slush Books
• Release date: Jun 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781925101980

Book preview

Tall...ish Pure Slush Vol. 11

A Pure Slush E-book

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Tall…ish Pure Slush Vol. 11

Copyright

*

First published June 2016

Stories, poems and essays copyright © Pure Slush and individual authors

Edited by Matt Potter

All rights reserved by the authors and publisher. Except for brief excerpts used for review or scholarly purposes, no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without express written consent of the publisher or the authors.

Pure Slush Books

4 Warburton Street

Magill  SA  5072

Australia

Email:  [e-mail]

Website:  http://pureslush.webs.com

Visit the Pure Slush Store:  http://pureslush.webs.com/store.htm

Original giraffe image copyright © Kym Parry

Cover design by Matt Potter

ISBN: 978-1-925101-98-0

Also available as a paperback:

ISBN: 978-1-925101-80-5

A note on differences in punctuation and spelling

Pure Slush proudly features (both online and in print) writers from all over the English-speaking world. Some speak and write English as their first language, while for others, it’s their second or third or even fourth language. Naturally, across all versions of English, there are differences in punctuation and spelling, and even in meaning. These differences are reflected in the work Pure Slush publishes, and it accounts for any differences in punctuation, spelling and meaning found within these pages.

Dedication

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for Melanie who is tall

Contents

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A Tallish Tale  /  Stephen V. Ramey

Slenderman’s Tattoos /  Megan Crosbie

The Two-Stall Bathroom …  /  Samuel Cole

Joy in July  /  Rita A. Simmonds

Building the World’s …  /  William Doreski

Wings  /  Kristina England

Tall Tree Tower  /  Martin Christmas

Pose  /  Jolene McIlwain

Age Difference  /  Alex Reece Abbott

Clock  /  Melisa Quigley

A Present for Gandhi  /  Martin Shaw

A List of Sideshow … /  Nancy Stohlman

My First Beer  /  James Wade

Measurements  /  D.M. Simone

Tony’s Wake  /  Alan Walowitz

The Giant, Snow White  /  Liam Hogan

Tropical Surprise  /  Irene Buckler

13 totara tottering  /  Mercedes Webb-Pullman

Priming the Pump  /  Elizabeth Bruce

For the Love of Chinos  /  Jennifer Fliss

Rear Window  /  Susan Tally

Riding the Mallory  /  Neil Silberblatt

The Height of the Door  /  Robert Herron

Nature’s Growth Potion  /  Bear Jack Gebhardt

Fiona’s Miserable Serve  /  Jenean McBrearty

David & Goliath /  Guilie Castillo Oriard

American Housewife  /  Len Kuntz

This is Barrow …  /  Kersten Christianson

Confessions …  /  J. J. Steinfeld

Seeking  /  Adina Sara

A Redwood in the Yukon  /  Wayne Scheer

Poet Philosopher  /  MK Punky

The Small Square  /  Aaron Wiegert

Skater Girl  /  Robert Knapman

Tall Fall Girl  /  Neila Mezynski

Tryst with Emily  /  Larry Lefkowitz

Another Objet D’Art  /  Paul Beckman

Emergency  /  Gwendolyn Joyce Mintz

Rwanda Suite: Slim  /  Steven Gowin

coyote go see what’s what  /  Al McDermid

Tropes  /  Mamta Dalal

Deception in Scarlet  /  Tom Fegan

towering  /  Kaytie Rose Thomas

No Pink Elephants  /  J P Lundstrom

The Resting Chair  /  Michael Koenig

Bruce Almighty  /  Mark Hudson

Double Tall  /  Cameron Filas

Awakening Her Choicest Powers  /  Jan Elman Stout

The Giant’s Height and Mine  /  Glen Armstrong

Tony Robbins Told Fred …  /  David S. Atkinson

My Bed is Getting Taller  /  Tim Philippart

There is Nothing Worse  /  A.J. Huffman

Collectors and Immigrants  /  Sean Jackson

Standing Tall  /  Ruth Sabath Rosenthal

Jenga  /  James Croal Jackson

Spirit Week  /  Martha Rand

Oil & Cheese /Chalk & Water  /  Winston Plowes

the tall brunette  /  Robert Beveridge

Red Shoes  /  Michael Webb

The Deal Breaker  /  Alex Robertson

Memory Palace  /  Gary Percesepe

In Freedom and Love  /  Daniel de Cullá

The Stature of Motherhood  /  Cynthia Leslie-Bole

The Skyscraper  /  Ben Pitts

Passage  /  Tom Sheehan

Hawaii  /  Todd McKie

Medium  /  Lara Lillibridge

Purple Shorty  /  Shayla Hawkins

Authors

A Tallish Tale

by Stephen V. Ramey

*

So there was this tall guy, and he had this Ziploc® bag filled with dirt. It wasn’t actually full, but an empty portion is useless in a tale like this, so imagine it was full. He comes to the door – it was Sunday right after church – and he rings the bell and leans down and smiles for the peephole and straightens his tie, and eventually I do answer because… what else would I do on a sunny Sunday with a well-dressed man standing outside my door? I had a successful career, SUV, HBO, but I didn’t have a man, and the sermon that morning had been on the emptiness of a life without a man, how Jesus lit up Mary Magdalene’s life purpose by letting her wash his feet. Or something. I wasn’t really listening. We had this report due at work and the data validation aspect was proving to be a bastard.

And this man, as the door opens, he says: Good day to you, ma’am. How much will you give me for this primo soil? So I’m thinking, Who buys dirt? I have a gardenful of dirt. I have a terrarium filled with dirt – well maybe not full, but full enough for the purpose of analogy.

I must have been staring, because the next I knew he had taken my hand. It was strong, his grip, and warm and kind and full, and I was kind of taken in by it.

How much? he said, and the bag lifted between me and the sun. Light shone through its pores. Light scattered a thought, how diamond is a type of dirt too, how everything is dirt in the end.

I don’t know, I said. How much do you want?

That depends on how you value the things you encounter in life.

I don’t want to overpay, I said. A blush warmed my face. He chuckled, and I felt less embarrassed.

What makes it worthwhile? I said. Does it come from a special place?

You mean like Grandmother’s grave? Einstein’s ashes? Harry Potter’s potting soil?

I guess.

He lowered the bag. Our eyes met. His were serious brown with a touch of twinkle.

If it helps, he said, I put it on eBay yesterday.

And?

It’s priceless, he said. Not a single offer.

Oh. Was I disappointed?

Look, he said. Here’s how importantly I view this transaction. And he peeled the plastic zipper. The opening puckered. I thought of his lips and how it might feel to kiss them.

He tilted the bag. If you don’t buy this soil, I’ll spill it, let the wind and the world take it, and it will no longer belong to either of us.

That doesn’t seem… I mean…

Indeed, he said. It would be a great loss. He tipped the bag until the first motes sprinkled down.

I stopped him. What kind of ending would it be, had I not?

He looked into me. I looked into him.

Will you take a check?

Slenderman’s Tattoos

by Megan Crosbie

*

Slenderly, slenderly, I paint the last sign in tall letters: Tulpa Tattoos – free today.

I follow the signs back through the fog to my hut. I wait.

Eventually there’s a stain in the grey haze. It wobbles closer, morphs into a customer.

I can taste his fear in the damp air between us. Still he comes in, lifts his sleeve. I crouch, fold my slender limbs around him to slip close to his skin, peach-fuzzy and still deliciously scented with youth.

I begin to drag the needle, perfectly scratchy, and oh so