blacklanternpublishingart3.blogspot.com
Black Lantern Publishing
An Online Art and Literary Journal Volume III, Summer 2010. A Wise Old Owl. Natasha N. Sova is a 23 year old, self-taught artist from Russia. She loves to make people smile. That's why she draws fairy tales and things that make people feel happy. See more of her whimsical work here. Natasha N. Sova is a 23 year old, self-taught artist from Russia. She loves to make people smile. That's why she draws fairy tales and things that make people feel happy. See more of her whimsical work. That Old Frog Story.
blacklanternpublishingblood.blogspot.com
Black Lantern Publishing
An Online Art and Literary Journal Volume II Spring 2010. Focus on the girl. Head bent, her eyes in turn focused on the page. Eleven, maybe twelve, her legs crossed, the rough carpeting of the hotel library scratching at her ankles. Her pale cotton trousers a little too short, her sweater nubbled with overuse, her glasses, too large and too pink, resting on a nose still waiting to lengthen and grow. Hair tucked behind her ears, one slick strand brushing her cheek. The rest of the library is empty. The ra...
blacklanternpublishingblossombough.blogspot.com
Black Lantern Publishing
An Online Art and Literary Journal. The Battle of Apple Blossom Bough. There was no way we were leaving earth without serious consequences for the planet. If we didn’t flourish here, humans wouldn’t either. 8220;Take care of it? 8220;Do you even know what I’m asking? 8220;Will you please answer me? 8220;I did answer you.”. 8220;With words.”. 8220;Spray it with the hose? 8220;No.”. 8220;Would’a got all stung up and then they would’a just rebuild there again.”. 8220;What’d ya use? Put your hearin aid in...
blacklanternpublishingbonesiv-v.blogspot.com
Black Lantern Publishing
An Online Art and Literary Journal Volume II Spring 2010. The Bones Under the Oak (Parts IV and V). Part IV: How Many Bones Make a Man? 8220;Well, that’s the lot! 8221; he said, removing his gloves. 8220;Are you sure? 8221; Martha asked doubtfully. “It seems like an awful few bones for a whole man.”. Martha sighed. “Seems a sad way to end a life. Just a garbage sack full of bones. I wonder who he was? Martha shivered. “Don’t say that! 8220;Now, now,” Fred patted her on the shoulder. “Don&...8220;No,̶...
blacklanternpublishingbonespartiii.blogspot.com
Black Lantern Publishing
An Online Art and Literary Journal, Spring 2010. The Bones Under the Oak. 8220;I didn’t think hunting season began this early,” he said in a trembling voice. The students stared at him open-mouthed. “But he’ll hear us,” one of the girls protested in a whisper. 8220;I sincerely hope so,” Josh told her. If they made enough noise the hunter would go away, he hoped. The students didn’t look convinced but Campbell, perhaps sensing Josh’s strategy, backed him up. 8220;What shall we do? Josh hesitated. Then...
blacklanternpublishingbonesunderoak1.blogspot.com
Black Lantern Publishing
An Online Art and Literary Journal Volume I Fall 2009. The Bones Under The Oak. T was late November and Keith Highsmith was returning home for Thanksgiving. He had hoped to leave the college earlier in the week, but a late scheduled exam and a term paper due before the holiday had caused him to delay his departure until the last minute. Anxious to shorten the distance between the college in. And his home in east. He swallowed hard and stared in horror at the smooth, white thing. He felt around in an incr...
blacklanternpublishingbonesunderoak2.blogspot.com
Black Lantern Publishing
An Online Art and Literary Journal. The Bones Under the Oak. Eff Marr eased his car off onto the shoulder of the road where the Appalachian Trail crossed the highway and twisted around to look at his two young sons in the back seat. “Well guys, we’re here,” he said. 8220;I’ve arranged for you to camp in the woods down from the Tolliver place,” his father had told him when they talked on the telephone. “You remember Fred Tolliver who used to act as guide when we went hunting? His father continued, “...
blacklanternpublishingclosetowater.blogspot.com
Black Lantern Publishing
An Online Art and Literary Journal Volume II, Spring 2010. So Close to All This Water. Hey say they came from outer space. She lit the candle again, watched it lurch forward. It was agitated, she knew, from the break from routine; food at dawn, food at dusk and now this. It stayed leaning forward, looking to her. Not looking for the bowl. She smiled at the attention, and sat down, facing him. Are you even alive? Do you understand me? She felt a sudden surge of anger. She waved her hands, re-opened th...
blacklanternpublishingcollector.blogspot.com
Black Lantern Publishing
An Online Art and Literary Journal Volume II Spring 2010. Eorge blamed his early balding for never having married or even fallen in love. Living alone wasn’t as bad since he found Midas. The oversized white cat gave him someone to talk to when he felt lonesome. If he grew bored talking to Midas, he dusted and reorganized his vast collections. The apartment’s lack of space did not deter him from shopping for additional items every Saturday afternoon. 8220;George,” he said as he shook it. 8221; George aske...
blacklanternpublishingdancingaurora.blogspot.com
Black Lantern Publishing
An Online Art and Literary Journal. Dancing with the Aurora. Ou sit and stare at a blank sheet. You wrack your mind. You look within. You do this for hours. Yet the page remains blank, because your mind regurgitates nothing but senseless clichés and empty platitudes. The next day you get up believing that this day will – must, be different. But, it isn’t. Nor is the day after, nor the day after that. How could this be? Then, without warning, nothing – not a single idea takes form in your mind. Hopelessne...
blacklanternpublishingezraandflies.blogspot.com
Black Lantern Publishing
An Online Art and Literary Magazine. I Remember Ezra and the Flies. He old lady sat out on her bare wood porch up in Montecito Heights of Los Angeles, rocking in an ancient wood rocker, the rocker runners squeaking on the floor boards, back and forth,. She held a Styrofoam coffee cup in one very wrinkly hand with long yellowed nails, and was sucking thoughtfully on a snuff lump that protruded in her lower lip. A large green bottle fly perched, moving in little jerks, on the porch's gray banister. She sho...
