Cafe Aphra: An Online Community for Writers

She watched it fall in waves gracefully down to the floor. She’d always been told that it was her best feature, thick and luxurious with a single streak of white. It was natural, she insisted. A reminder of her busy life with four children. That streak was a trophy, the spoils of battle on a field of teenaged angst where more than once she’d had to pick her hill to die on. That battlefield had changed over the years. Now she was waging a war upon her own body as the chemo worked its gruesome magic. Her life was a whirlwind of doctor’s check-ups, follow-ups and throwing up. Now those very same teenagers were riding into battle alongside her, lances raised and armor ready to fight off the latest onslaught of her disease. Breast cancer. A large tumor that had grown in the single year since her last exam. She’d lived the past months in suspended animation, going through the motions as they rallied around her. She worked at an elementary school, the kids all making get-well cards, wishing...

This is the story of man who can’t begin to think or question why the unfathomability of all that is good or bad is even comparable to the unending nothing or why the chances are slim or why one would even try and change or what needs changing and how it can even be possible to see the entirety; the plusses and negatives, pros and cons, arguments and counter arguments, or is it even in those terms and if so how and what can be done; about right and left, religion, greed, altruism, nature or what is our nature and why can’t there be more than one, how many times have people been over the ins and outs, the ups and downs, the circular - back to the began; is there more than one person (me?) who thinks this and if so would it be rude and why would it be, why can’t one talk to those dead souls on the train and if one can what would they say (speak souls speak!) would they make their excuses and leave, is there any excuse good enough or what is important to him or her and her and him, if it’...

The zeitgeist you’ve created Is a pox of epic reach, A free-for-all of vitriol Via one-way posts and tweets. Trolls and bullies lurk Behind your anonymic walls, Without a shred of decency (Or any guts at all). You abet the human tendency To cluster into groups Whose members feed each other And regurgitate their tropes. Opinions trump established facts; Lies outshout the truth; News that’s false gets more applause Than news that’s backed by proof. We can castigate each other With a mouse-click-turned-down thumb, And a friend is just a notch On someone’s cyber radar gun. by J. Craig Hill