Nineteen simians toiling on a proverb
Feathertale
FeatherTale, n. A confusing and disorganized forum for writers, poets and artists to showcase their genius.
Nineteen simians toiling on a proverb
Maternal cuisine cooked up with eerie authenticity
A case of misplaced identities
The perils of interspecies romance
Earth is a capitalist utopia, and nobody can figure out where Ayn Rand has gotten to
When a story needs to tell its own story.
I have the soul of a poet. I bought it at a Sotheby’s auction. I can’t remember the poet’s name. I couldn’t afford a really famous poet.
Supposedly everybody has one moment of greatness. When you die and after they process you, it’s all anyone talks about. Complete strangers come up and ask what you did that was so great and then go on about what they did. That’s most of the afterlife, really: stories about how great people are.
None of us understood how or why but they said starting in September we’d have to walk uphill both ways to school. We didn’t like that. Not one bit. But there was little we could do. Us being kids and all.