After some really tough deliberation, we’ve decided to feature At the Foot of Eternity by jackyhillary for the first week’s write-in.
The imagery here is extremely powerful, a tangible sense of heat and frustration and unease. The images of sweat gathering and salty olive flesh burst over your tongue. I suspect this story is best read slow, and several times, with chilled limoncello.
The final line delivers a sinister punch. Quietly.
For the Cake Wednesday Write-in.
The car breaks down a mile and a half away from the coast and Judith, to Christine’s feminist right-on horror, only delights in the opportunity to become “real, capable lesbians”. They push the car to the first garage they come across which is part of a cluster of thirty or so buildings, small and plain. Christine’s thighs burn and a whole flora of sweat blooms from the armpits of her summer dress, collecting in the cup of her bra and the dip of her breasts. Judith suffers over-heating beautifully – only a glimmering film of perspiration springing to her forehead suggests that she even struggled. Having run out of dry fabric with which to dab herself dry with, Christine’s tongue darts out to sweep over her upper lip and the saltiness reminds her of the fleshy olives they gorged on at the last town. The…
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