Dyserotica-Basilike Pappa

Holy, writer crush

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

He wants me to play dead in a clearing on Hymettos, under the open sky. I lie down on a flat rock surrounded by anemones and chamomile, and he spreads my hair in a fan shape.You are so pale,’ he says, as if he sees me for the first time. He arranges my limbs in different positions, and I can assure you his touch is clearly academic. He walks around the rock to look at me from different angles, talking all the time about aesthetics. His vowels are precise, his sigmas soft and his nus ring of the best education money can buy.

He drags a finger over the childhood scar on my knee, asks how I got it. I could invent a heroic story; but the rock is smooth, the sun gracious, the breeze carries the scent of thyme, so I just tell him the truth: I…

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Sudden Denouement’s First Short Story Literary Prize – Open For Submissions Nov 1, 2018

Well this is entirely too exciting!

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

Since its inception in 2016, The Sudden Denouement Literary Collective has had the privilege of featuring some of today’s most fearless writers. With members that span the globe and editors who share a passion for pushing boundaries, we as a collective have enjoyed reading, promoting, and watching the success of each individual artist as they have grown in their craft and left their mark upon the literary world.

Now, as writers and readers, editors and fans, we at Sudden Denouement Literary Collective are ecstatic to open up the doors to our outstanding, award winning collective, and invite you all in to pull up a chair and tell us your stories.

The Sudden Denouement Literary Collective, and Sudden Denouement Publishing, are pleased to dip our toes into the waters of great literary contests and announce our first ever short story literary prize with a call for submissions from all of you.

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Happy Birthday – Jasper Kerkau

Jasper makes me feel every last line

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

25
Happy Birthday

The reason I get up in the morning is having a birthday. I remember standing in front of the hospital smoking, sending the pictures, beaming. Everyone wanted to know how much he weighed. I never wanted children until he came into the world. They told me my cholesterol was high when he was one. I drank apple cider vinegar and jogged a thousand miles. Before he was able to speak, he would clap his hands and bounced up and down when I came in. Life had meaning every time I heard his laughter. He was old enough to understand the night we had our last fight; he got down on his knees and cupped his hands and prayed. It broke my heart because I knew he sensed nothing would ever be the same again. He loves me more than anyone, even now as his bones pain from growing…

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Day 1 – Patrick Hart

meet Patrick Hart – so, so, so good

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

Forgiveness is found in the cooling of blatant heat
A treasure typically reserved
For hunters and priests
Finally shifting in the form of falling leaves
A light reprieve
From hollow hell and dampened glory

The sky awakens to bodies succumbing
To the Cliff Swallow’s song
A disbelief of patience
That strands the torture of constant war, for
Beauty is a season in desire
It is a body bright
Knotted In the fingers of sunlight
And a bored man’s tongue
Can find the fruits of passion
In the throes of this calm union

Roadside Maples dance in irenic fashion
With acorn offerings littering
The feet of wolves nurturing the day
And autumn prints pry fault
From the aging jetty of the mind

Alas, the first of its kind bows
To the womb of a sunrise
As dusk falls
The earth becomes a beautiful woman
Behind the glow of her cigarette
And…

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Whore

I am a whore, and I know I am because I was given that label by an angry man after I shared  his time and sipped at a seven dollar coffee while we discussed the weather and why the coastal residents of British Columbia should probably think about packing up and moving inland. I am … Continue reading Whore

Fear – Candice Louisa Daquin

I bawled when I read this, it’s amazing.

FREE VERSE REVOLUTION

Portrait of sad blond little girl sitting on the bridge at the day time

Fear for a child is very different to the adult

and exactly the same

the child inhabits another decade, in the past, another life

before they knew they were who they become

the child wets the bed because she misses her mother

who is beautiful, ethereal, slender and absent

the smell of her still lingers in green hallways and the child

will use that feeling to guide her own heart throughout life

though she doesn’t know, she never knows this is her divining rod

this child spends a lot of time alone, she is fearful before she is brave

it is not easy to be brave without mantra, bone, feather and drum

it is easy to be fearful when you are in silence and silence becomes your adopted home

this child fears the river of her teaming city swelling and rising and forming

treachery

she fears one night when she…

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Introducing Joey Gould: The One Time You Take Her to the Lake

Meet joey, Sd’s newest member

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

It is easy to love one who stares so hard.
She speaks to the breaking water,
eyes ninety degrees away .

You know the vowel structure,
the tongue tuck, the flick of lighters,
the grey solution slowing your veins—

alternately, there grew the lump
in her chest. Then she flew away
from sureness, pale sojourning.

A speedboat’s wake splashes here by a private dock
neither of you owns. Neither of you owns
much. As for any sort of kissing, she
is beautiful but already swimming away
into a blinding sunburn cooked into the pond,
into the flesh-gap between the stories
inked into the skin of her narrow shoulders.
She needs them touched up. She once had

much longer hair, when she forgot
for seven years—consider yourself
also a side-effect of the chemo.
You never learned to swim.

This story poets tell you to read,
it is beautiful & aloof, it…

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