Cloud City: ATTN WRITERS AND POETS: Online... →
cloudcitypress: Writers, Poets, and Cloud City Press fans, we’re overjoyed to announce that we are going to begin publishing flash fiction and poetry on this very website! In order to do so, we’re going to need some poetry and flash fiction. That’s where you come in. We are accepting submissions at…
Rolling Blackouts: Error Message
There doesn’t seem to be anything here!
A steady diet of gas station coffee, bananas, and liquor will keep you in fighting shape for no longer than two days. After this amount of time has passed, it will become increasingly difficult to negotiate a stairwell without injury or maintain a decent grasp on the events of the last several hours. Radical nutritional intervention may become necessary.
Its important to keep a variety of formal wear on hand if you’re going to live the life of a degenerate. A smart blazer or tie will assist you in concealing the unfortunate affliction of being down and out from society with far greater success than sunglasses or a good nights sleep ever could. When you are discovered by the police fist fighting a pile of broken glass outside of an apartment...
The Horror: Part Three
It is the nature of the Horror to keep you running, as its power over you is greatest precisely at the moment when you believe yourself to be out of its reach. With thoughts along the lines of “the sunrise must be just over that next hill” you find yourself continuing onwards filled with hope that, despite all evidence to the contrary, if you can manage to put enough distance between...
Drunker than usual
I’m drunker than usual, so I’m just going to go ahead and ask: Was it drunk driving when I held the wheel for you because you were the designated driver and wanted to take a a couple hits between bars? I swore I’d never do it again, but it’s become incredibly clear that that is a promise I can never keep.
Rolling Blackouts: Treasure Bay
The Gambler is slapping the table shouting “Baby, baby, bayybayyyy!” trying not to spill his drink. His wife is shaking her head, but she’s got chips down too so she can’t really say too much. Action Jackson just busted and now he’s pretending to play slots to keep the free drinks coming, but I’ve got five dollars left so I put it on the table. The cards keep...
Rolling Blackouts: Run for the Coast
I spent four hours in that airport that sober, hung over morning; it would’ve been pretty god damn suspicious if I didn’t wind up going somewhere. I lit out for St. Paul that day. But home is where your mailbox is and, with mine conspicuously empty and the work dried up, I decided the ghosts of one grand gesture could only be exorcised with another. Me and Action Jackson figured we...
The Horror: Part Two
The Horror, by it’s very nature, is constantly striving to create and maintain the impression that it is a figment of your own imagination. It thrives on uncertainty. It dispatches its agents into your apartment in the predawn haze in order to, in the most surprising fashion possible, force you to figure out just who broke into whose apartment, or whether you can really call it breaking in if...
The kids downstairs were eating things that made them hallucinate again and it was making a hell of a racket. I think it was Johnny Warm Water who spoke up, to be honest I’d forgotten I’d even said anything. “So you mean like a porno?” “What?” “An alternative romantic comedy, you mean like a porno? You’re saying we should make a porno?” Now it was all coming back to me. We’d been grinding...
It’s my turn to keep watch around 4am so I spend a lot of early mornings looking out my window. There’s a girl a cross the courtyard who likes to dangle from her balcony about this time. It looks quite dangerous but there really isn’t much I can do about it. She just hangs there, rail thin arms like some sort of frail extension of the balcony itself with her feet just visible to the...
The Horror: Part One
One of the more difficult moments of any interpersonal relationship is the moment when you realize that the other person involved is trying to kill you. It’s completely normal to feel slightly betrayed, a little ill at ease when you find yourself around the other person, and the urge to take karate, or at least to sharpen up some spoons to keep under your pillow just in case. However, after...
Do you remember when we were drunk and drove 120 miles an hour on the Beltline? I was more worried you’d die of alcohol poisoning behind the wheel than anything else. To this day I spend my nights walking around looking for the shittiest looking Honda Civic to break into just to try and find that cigarette you dropped. Back then it was a pretty big deal.