A Tiny And Colorful Literary Journal

Posts tagged ‘Nicole Monaghan’

September: Happy First Birthday, NS.

Happy first birthday, Nailpolish Stories, my colorful, unpredictable, and growing baby.  To celebrate, I am re-running the first nailpolish story which went live September 5th, 2011.  Thank you, readers and contributors, for your trust, your enthusiasm, and your continued love of small sparkly things.  And for allowing this literary babe to become a toddler. 

Much love,

Nicole Monaghan

Posh Trash by Nicole Monaghan

We wrapped borrowed scarves around our curved hips, as if that were payment.  Mom snapped her gum, looked into our eyes, sorry, asked about lay-away.

Nicole Monaghan is founding and managing editor of Nailpolish Stories and editor of Stripped, A Collection of Anonymous Flash (PS Books 2011).  Her first collection of short fiction, Want, Wound is the 2012 winner of the Burning River Press Annual Fiction Contest and is forthcoming in spring, 2013.  Visit her at http://writenic.wordpress.com

Show Me The Ring by Bruce Harris

The payday was smaller than the town. Whatever. For the first time, I was clean. “You ready?” my trainer asked. I responded with four words.

Bruce Harris enjoys relaxing with a Marxman

 

Three pieces byAnnmarie Lockhart

 

Skin Deep

you made me

promises

like birth marks

or tumors caught early

unrooted

sitting on the

surface, superficial spots

covered

up with powder

or excised clean and quick

Pink Diamond

not a gem

but a base

on the field

beckoning

home after

a high fly

hit over the wall

through Mrs. J’s

bedroom

window

again.

Brandie Alexander

initials carved

on the tree

BT + AG

prom night

tipsy

on peach

schnapps and

midnight

beach

still sweet

on each other

a lifetime later

Annmarie Lockhart is the founding editor of vox poetica, an online literary salon dedicated to bringing poetry into the every day, and the founder of unbound CONTENT, an independent press for a boundless age. A lifelong resident of Bergen County NJ, she lives, works, and writes 2 miles east of the hospital where she was born.

 

Up Front and Personal by Jody

He looks at me, I stare back.

He’s handsome. There’s tension.

I gasp as his hands touch my chest,

then shove me off the bridge.

Jody is a British fitness freak and inveterate procrastinator.  She spends her working days painting her nails, learning new words and never finishing what she . . .

Vampsterdam by Paul Lock

A child harmed?  The culprit found.  A beating pulse.  My claws expand.  A scratch to taste.  My eyes flash red.  And then I gorge… justice. 

Paul is a techno-geek with a love for language, who’s aiming to swap his day job in front of the computer supporting software, for a day job in front of the computer being an author… although he still won’t wear nailpolish J. He can be contacted at ‘paul.lock@outlook.com’.

Three pieces by Chad Greene

Blue My Mind

When her wealthy husband’s affairs turn her world upside down, the old trophy wife who was once a young gymnast starts walking on her hands.

Cuddle by the Fire

After we stomp down the freshly turned dirt with our white cheer shoes, we brush them with our pom-poms and bounce back to the bonfire.

Naked Truth

My husband served me with divorce papers because he thought I had aborted his baby. I signed them, though, because it hadn’t been his baby. 

A graduate of the Master of Professional Writing Program at the University of Southern California, Chad Greene is an assistant professor of English at Cerritos College. His writing has appeared in the Journal of Microliterature, Nanoism, Southern California Review, The Southlander, and the flash-fiction collection Book by Authors. Earlier this summer, he earned an honorable mention in the Ninth Annual Ultra-Short Competition.

 

 

Two pieces by Charlotte Lock

Lucky Lucky Lavender

A four leaf clover.  A horseshoe upright.  A rainbow.  A pot of gold.  So I’ve been told.  Coins and lanterns.  Knocking on wood. Luck.

Hearts And Tarts

A glimpse of sweat.  The heart speeds up.  The smile lit so bright. It all felt right.  A tear of joy.  Somebody to love. You.

Charlotte Lock is from Bradford.  She is thirteen years old.

Two pieces by Erin Garlock

Pink Lingerie

English class is awesome.  I hate the teacher, I hate the subject, but Jenny Heinrich’s pants hang low and I can see her pink panties.

Wild Strawberry

Sunsets on Sundays bring closure.  Another weekend is spent, to our homes we must go.  On my pillow, her hair.  On my mind, our love.

Erin Garlock, having written far too much software using every character on the keyboard except the alphabet, enjoys escaping into the world of real words when the opportunity presents itself.  When not actually at a keyboard, he has a penchant for photographing churches with his wife Colleen.

Shine: An Elemental Trilogy of Summer by M.C. Harris

Silver Elements

He stood alone at the shoreline, looked her way as a slant of sunlight reached her sterling necklace, the silver spark that caught his eye.

Golden Conduct

Intelligence, grace, generosity.  Her friends called him golden… “Golden Boy,” but only in whispers, as if there were shame in perfection, or in recognizing it.

Kinetic Copper

Suntanned wrap of her legs, copper warmth, is what he remembered long after she was gone, having convinced herself he was too good for her.

Well, nobody’s perfect, M.C. figures.  And we grownups know that, don’t we?  We know not to expect perfection from ourselves or from anyone else, because that’s just not fair, is it?  Not fair to ourselves or to anyone else.  Nope.  No, Sir.  Because perfection is impossible, and as grownups, we know not to ask the impossible, right?  In spite of the impending supernova, in spite of every stressful thing that makes us want to roll up into a big baby ball and cry, or makes us want to assume our most-practiced fetal position and just sort of, you know, stop for a couple of minutes, sometimes we just have to be grownups.  Am I right?  Hello?

May

Mysore Passion by Rebecca Gaffron

She came for the experience; and rippled European yoga men aroused by her strong asanas. But she always carried hand-sanitizer. The locals might be contagious.

Rebecca is a sometimes writer, sometimes procrastinator and hopes she will be forgiven for both.  She can be found at: www.rebeccawriting.wordpress.com

 

Midnight Blue by Christina Murphy

Knowing how to behave gets you a yacht, the Cinderella, floating in the bay at midnight as you await the woman you plan to seduce. 

Christina Murphy lives and writes along the Ohio River. There is much about a major river to suggest words, currents, and images–many of which, in some form or other, find their way into her poetry.

Three pieces by Carly Berg

Turquoise and Caicos

A winter Minnesota tract house. Muumuus and bangles, mango walls, big plants. Jambalaya, no clock. Barefoot blues by the fireplace. Her husband was a macaw.

Swept Off My Feet

The Prince tried the slipper on all the women’s feet. He wouldn’t stop. Cinderella cried. Disney Security intervened. The guard said they’re all like that.

Pink-a-Boo

A cupcake lady, ruffles and ribbons. Hanging out the wash on a crisp April morning. When she bends, the neighbor man sees sweet blush cheeks.

Carly Berg is an editor, writer, and flop-about. Her work has appeared in Pank Magazine, Dog plot, Front Porch Review, and others. Nail polish makes her happy.

 

Riding Hood Red by Karen Walsh

What big eyes! Pale and cold, like blue ice. He paws my cape, nails sharp as thorns. I should flee, but I don’t. I surrender.

Karen Walsh is a psychologist and university instructor in St. Louis, Missouri. She has been writing fiction for fun but no profit for many, many years.

 

Hackney Spackle by Lisa Nielsen

he has my penchant for sarcasm

splaying it out before you like an enchanted gift

but a pantomime of devotion is all he’s actually offering

Lisa Nielsen is a single mother trying to balance the mundane with the groovy.

 

Atomic Orange by Katherine Lopez

The sky splashes bright orange over the sea. You wish it were cold, a smoothie. Instead it’s hot as the air, tainting fish, ships, beach.

Katherine Lopez writes stories, poems, essays, articles, blog entries, letters, notes, and doodles. Some of which are published.

 

Limited Addiction by Edie Montgomery

The nightmares of her past haunted her, even in daylight. Made her crave the poison. Each day it saved her. Each day it killed her.

Edie Montgomery has bungee jumped in Australia, swam with a shark in Tahiti, and slept in a haunted castle in Scotland.  Now she just likes to stay home and write little stories.  You can find her on twitter at @MeWriteWords.

 

Two pieces by Nicole Monaghan

Stiletto

He thought it was an Italian dessert, and I said no, it’s how I reach your lips.  We kissed again.  He said short was cute.

Taffy Town

He said everything was sticky here. The diners, the dance clubs, the situations. He wiped his hands on his jeans, said get used to it.

Nicole Monaghan founded and edits Nailpolish Stories.  Every once in a while, she publishes her own stuff here.  Because she loves to write.  And loves NS.

Nicole Monaghan, 11/21/11

Strapless

Homage to a lost love–the wrong one.  His lips on her bare shoulders, saying they tasted like cream.   New love’s mouth now, tasting wounds.

 

Blanc

She said that’s what I want:  slate truly clean.  Never having been mistaken, pain inflicted and doled out, never having painted wrong, scars like colors.  

 

Nicole Monaghan is a writer and editor.  Find out more about her and her work here:  http://writenic.wordpress.com/about

William Henderson, Nicole Monaghan, 10/17/11

10/17/11

Two Pieces by William Henderson

Rising Star

Left of the Dippers. Not there yesterday, or there yesterday, but mostly invisible. That light is what I think about when I think about you.

Bare It In Trafalgar Square

Thousands of pigeons. Men with black umbrellas. Tourists with maps and cameras. Me in a trench coat, and then me not in a trench coat.

William Henderson lives in Boston where he is often tooling around with his children, Avery and Aurora; musing about love and writing and parenting on his blog (hendersonhouseofcards.wordpress.com); tweeting (@avesdad); practicing yoga; and waiting for his ever-after ending.  He has published nonfiction in The Rumpus, The Fix, Annalemma Magazine, Sea Giraffe, Zouch Magazine, Specter Literary Magazine, Dr. Hurley’s Snake-Oil Charm, Revolution House, and Xenith, among others. Also, NAP Literary Magazine will publish Henderson’s first chapbook in January 2012.  You can reach Henderson at wil329@yahoo.com

 

Two pieces by Nicole Monaghan

Onyx Rush

No lampposts for blocks.  Click-click, neck hairs knowing danger follows in a baseball cap.  I hurl heels into the lightless night, dash toward anything else.

Sunset Prism 

They say survival instinct.  They say adrenaline.  They say flashes of life in stills.  No, just memories of color, of impossible beauty on ordinary evenings.

Nicole Monaghan is an editor and an award-winning writer.  She’s been published in numerous online journals and in print anthologies.  Find out more about her here: http://writenic.wordpress.com/about/  Links to her online work are here:  http://writenic.wordpress.com/my-publications-writing-prizes/

Nicole Monaghan, 9/10/11

 9/10/11

 

*Dedicated to America.  We remember everything. 

Sonic Bloom by Nicole Monaghan

Bang.  Skyscraping towers crumble like Jenga.  Death-gray clouds swell and chase, mutated flowers on time-lapse.  A comic strip scene, but not.  Civilians and super heroes.

Nicole Monaghan is a writer.  Find out everything you never wanted to know about her at http://writenic.wordpress.com/about/

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