PURPLE NAILS

Khadijah Ali-Coleman

Her painted purple nails almost blared against the quiet of her black blazer as her fingers grabbed her folded arms.  She had forgotten to remove the color before she went to bed last night.

Shit.

Her client, a conservative Southern CEO of a multi-million dollar corporation would surely disprove.

He was already upset he had to work with her, the only woman—Black woman at that—on the team. He wouldn’t care about her Stanford education or wealthy parents. He didn’t care about her impeccable work record or indestructible resolve. He would only see those damn nails, in party purple, and curse the agency that hooked him up with the ghetto, token Negro at the firm--a recipient of the Obama hand-out, he would think.

Her heels clacked heavily as she walked reluctantly to the glass boardroom, shoulder drooping from her weighty laptop bag, purple nails clutching. His head raised as the squeak of the door announced her arrival. 

Eyes searching up and down paused; “Nice nails,” he said. 

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Khadijah Ali-Coleman is a playwright and performance artist. She is editor of the anthology Liberated Muse Volume I: How I Freed My Soul and will debut her play Running: AMOK this year in the Capital Fringe Fest this summer in Washington DC. She owns the online artist communitywww.LiberatedMuse.com. Learn more at http://www.KhadijahOnline.com.

Making History

Doreen prepared to flip through the channels when the news interrupted her show for a ‘Special Report’.

An excited news anchor filled the screen as she caught him in mid sentence, “this is a historic day not only for America, but for all of the people of Earth. Today we started receiving the video from the Centauri Wanderer spacecraft as it prepares to launch its probe into the surface of the planet designated Ameda 1. We'll now switch you over to the feed coming in from Mission Control.”

On the screen, a view of a conical shaped projectile provided by an on-board camera showed the probe jettisoned from the Centauri Wanderer, firing its thrusters to build speed for its impact with Ameda 1. Despite the interruption to her shows, Doreen couldn't help but be fascinated with the historic implications of the video before her, one that traveled between solar systems for the first time in human history.

A bright flash flared from the planet’s surface just as applause erupted from the scientists and engineers at mission control. Applause turned to murmurs of confusion and Doreen saw on the screen what looked like gases flowing from the location the probe struck, spewing odd looking material that fell to the planets surface. Coldness formed in Doreen’s stomach as the Wanderer’s on board camera continued to zoom in on the impact zone. Suddenly her shows replaced the picture on the screen, but not before Doreen heard someone at mission control cried out, “Oh my God, there are bodies.”

BIO Kevin Vorshak dabbles in writing from his home on Ohio. A huge fan of Scifi, Fantasy and Horror stores, he still hopes to one day be able to become a full-time writer.

I SPY

I spy with my wandering eye, a woman sitting at a booth in a restaurant.
I spied her dark, silky hair just past her shoulders.
I spied her bright brown eyes.
Her smooth mocha skin.
Her full pouty lips.
Her big wide smile.
I then spied with my wandering mind sitting across from this woman.
Staring in those same brown eyes, gently touching the arm of her smooth mocha skin, brushing her dark and silky hair out of her face, and leaning in to kiss her full pouty lips.
Then I spied with my wandering eye another man doing exactly what my wandering mind just saw.
Letting me know what I see to myself will only be for me alone and not for us to share aloud.

BIO: Chauncey Balsom, is an aspiring screenwriter from Florida currently working on his first full length screenplay as well as a web-series and a short film. Other than writing, he enjoys working out, reading, sports, going out with friends and music. A pretty well-rounded individual, Chauncey will try almost anything once. You can contact Chauncey on Twitter and his blog pages: http://twitter.com/tuckfwitter and http://mrrenaissanceman.blogspot.com/

TEN LINES

Spare me sick animals just a little longer

Spare me sick animals while I get stronger

Drooping mandarins with grubby jaws

Middle class wankers pretending to be poor

Fat slag wasters of various descriptions

Prissy Miss Perfects – perfume nickers

Sly promptings from former virgins

All you really need is a good plastic surgeon

Fakes falsely worried cos baby's pissed

All I want now is Love and Mint Juleps

BIO Chris Savage King is a writer and performer. She is author of the Award Winning What/So What? (ICA/Radio Four) and a novel Do What You Want. She also sings, has worked extensively in prisons, and has attempted theatre.

A SIMPLE THREAD

How Fate dreams to subdue me.

Her Pale blue green dactyls

Sweeping the sweat of her laboring

From her pious brow

Her effort strained against

Other forces prevailing to

Construct my end their way.

Oh, Fate - beautiful colossus

Harpy of misery and ruin.

Your eyes gleam ferocity

Jealous of talents made mortal

Ruinous of the fleshy beings-

You steal their glory short.

Sheer robes and veils of dreams

Mask your true form, Fate.

Deamoness of false hopes and pride.

Gleefully smiting down the wouldbe's

Would without your ruin

Be evermore remembered mythic forms

Will now lay forgotten

To all, and none.

That is the reward you spin, Fate,

How cruel you are.

Cutting Destiny's cord

Letting the days die unwon.

BIO Crystal Chambers-has managed to squeeze at least three lifetimes into her 39 years. From being a florist to a professional cyclist and athletic coach and, now, realizing her lifelong dream of being a writer. She’s written poetry since adolescence, moving into writing training articles and being published in the annual Authors of Tomorrow. Crystal occasionally fights town hall with fiery speeches (and wins). Crystal is thrilled to be a contributing writer for Bel Air Magazine, in addition to her daily duties owning a business Golsan Cycles and writing novels, poetry and children's books. @CrystalChambers on Twitter, www.mymadworld.com.

TO THOREAU AWAY SOCIETY

David was right

To Thoreau away society,

Step Rhythmed distance

Within his life as art,

Reflecting beauty's intuition,

The voice of which...

Few hear.

Henry did not keep pace with his companions,

His Waldon Pond mirror reflected,

A measure of life few grasped.

BIO: Douglas H. Melloy. I am a musician. I play congas and bongos. I teach Martial arts. I have a black belt in kenpo karate. I have wirtten nine books, seven of which are in print. I enjoy dancing, playing live music, cooking, walking my dog, and drinking wines. I am 53 years young and single.

THE FICKLE NATURE OF OUR KIND

The fickle nature of our kind is not satiated without a looming air of irony; for we are unnatural. To peer out of a glass window pane and see nothing more than structures that don't grow, buckles the soul into insignificance. The makeup of whatever is made up ascertains the fact that we are creative beings. "God-like" if you will. Whether you like it or not, we are indubitably gods of our own worlds. If we weren't, our visual system wouldn't utilize the process of projection. We create our own realities with astounding precision; only to blame others for what we're responsible for. Eternally, will fortune wax and wane; and time only waits for the patient.

BIO: Carl Woods, II is a native of the state of Virginia, U.S.A. and retained a passion for the written word at a very young age. With such an understanding, he has come to realize that words have little to no power to describe the intricacies of what actually is. While studying quantum mechanics, he's become a beacon of unbridled significance to whoever reads his work. @iambecomepi on Twitter