The Cafe Irreal: International Imagination 

Issue Fourteen

The Santa Fe by Terry Dartnall
Butterflies by W.B. Keckler
Tableau by Jake Elliot
The Accordion by Cat Rambo
Watches by Pavel Řezníček
surd person circular by Brian E. Turner
Black Belt Karate Master (1988) by Ethan Bernard
The Room at the End of the World by Brian Biswas
The Mushroom Incident by Olivia V. Ambrogio
A Call to Arms by A.D. MacDonald
Almost Mythological and Duty by James Grinwis
It Works Differently on Writers by Jeremy Tavares
Running by Sarah Bailyn
Of Forests and Trees and Never Met a Fish Taco I Didn't Like by Robert Leach
A Man Of Many Doppelgangers by Jeff Tannen


Home
Archives
Theory
Links
Guidelines

irreal (re)views

 

It Works Differently on Writers
Jeremy Tavares


Because I am a writer I can see things anyway. I think it works differently on writers. There is a naked woman sucking at my toes. She is dead. Anyway. Some of it I can control. I think that too is because I am a writer. Of fiction. She has a bullet hole in her head where I shot her. Tramoflan. Pramophlan. Cramophlan. Something like that. Harmless enough to give to a baby. Nothing is right anymore. Not for anybody. So good for you. Why does she do that? I can still write. News guy still does the news though he says there is a still-beating heart on the desk in front of him. Knowing that we all will understand. There it is now I see one too. On my desk. Because I am a writer. He keeps going back to the heart, talking about it in the middle of a sentence about people throwing themselves off buildings in Detroit. He is sad, I can tell. We have made mistakes. Humanity has made a mistake. Why this woman? It's fascinating. I don't know her.




Jeremy Tavares is a writer currently living in South Carolina.


Back to the Top

Home | Archives | Theory | Links | Guidelines


editors@cafeirreal.com

story copyright by author 2005 all rights reserved