Short Stories


Vega’s Straw By Z Zoccolante Listen to or download the podcast of this blog. http://zzoccolante.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/09/Vegas-Straw-Z.m4a Download    ...

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My super short story, Their Heads Came Falling Down, got chosen for publication in Rollick Magazine. You can help it win the Most Popular Post Award by leaving a comment or sharing it (from the link above) on your social media. For my lovely podcast listeners, this week’s audio, in the blue box, contains the story only. Keep reading below for some thoughts on the story’s topic.   *      *      *      *    Musings on...

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Friends, The story below opened my memoir, but was cut during editing. When writing memoir, they say one must write like an orphan, so it’s fitting that Literary Orphans published this piece. Thank you Literary Orphans! For Members only Listen to or download the podcast of this blog. Hidden mp3 player To become a member, click on REGISTER on the sidebar to the right! read The Word Skinny (4 minute read) Listen in the blue box....

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Hi Friends, This week I’m thrilled to share my first short story publication in Tryst Literary Magazine. (Story and audio below.) What has taken place? What do you think it means? With Love, Z :)   Surveying the Storm by Z Zoccolante After the storm, there was silence. It pressed between us like pockets of honeycomb, sticky and sweet, like the amber that might catch a bee to form prehistoric stones. Others might admire it...

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When I open my eyes the blindfold lies at my feet clinging to the prickly grass. It is silk, the color of blood, and ripples in the breeze. Whoever brought me here has left me and my mind pushes into a dark empty space as I try to remember the past. There are no marks on my skin. The ends of the silk hold together with a single delicate knot.   The boney ribs of corset fingers run down my torso like streaks of water down glass,...

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The day passed in strange silence, after people hung their heads, and the body was lowered into the ground. We said the prayers, but uncertainty hung in the air like frosting pressing against our lips as we tread under the gray sky. It held back its tears so as not to draw attention from our moment. Later that evening it poured. Water slid down the windowpanes. I pictured him holding the hose as the water smeared against the glass,...

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