Hothouse
Literary Journal
Author: hothouselitjournal
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Amanda N.C. He tasted it before he felt it. James’s eyes swelled with tears as he stumbled back, barely catching himself. The clatter of his wooden blade hitting the dry hard ground was lost to him as the taste of iron filled his mouth. Like wildfire, the pain began to spread from the spark that…
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Reese Beebe “I mean, don’t you ever think about shaving your head?” I ask, hugging my knees to my chest on the fitting room bench. Margaret looks at me through the mirror. A brief glance, then back to the dress she pulls over her chest. “No. Not really. Zip?” She sweeps her hair to one…
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Reese Beebe She is not yet awake. Dawn sprinkles rose-colored light into the room. The sunrise brushes her freckled skin, creating a luminescent glow upon her face. We lie on the floor and my eyes study her, but hers do not even flicker. She’s a late sleeper. Or perhaps I am just an early riser,…
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Asher Osborn The faint smell of rubber lingered in the air. The low red glow rested upon my face as I sat in the intersection, tapping my fingers against the wheel. Every possibility of tonight raced through my head. I had no idea which outcome would be victorious. Warning the younger generation about the self-destructive…
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Saira Iqbal I scare myself When they freeze in the chilling air Shift of me entering the room. Frightened, I suppose. I am only watching out for them, Warning them that my own home Has already grown cold. The warmth Of her gaze, of her hands Kneading dough in earthen bowls Endeavors to hide Secret,…
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Lucas França Francisco We ain’t the light but we hold it—lampstands, y’see. Showing Paul around, your servant, a shell, camping around the Hill Country like a brother, a prophet, y’know? John sent a letter back—he had little tacos with minced onions and met an ecoterrorist at the breakfast café and a bagel (white, plain), and…
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Emily Howes Femininity. A word as beautiful as a rose encased in glass for all to marvel at. Feel the way it effortlessly flows off your tongue. But when you lift the rose-colored glass, be careful not to prick yourself on the concept’s thorns. Like I did. Like all too many have.Don’t: Raise your voice—proper…
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Eden Rumsey He picks through detritus, Gnarled theropod talons Scraping against uniform bricklay. He approaches them— Those pig-kings— And they gawk and coo, thinking him affectionate. The tender-fleshed giants do not recognize Only time saved them from Fossil-age ravening. They toss him a scrap from their troughs— Life thrown away in careless excess— And he…
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Lauren Brown I fear time. The surface you’re sitting on now will still exist even after you. There was a time where you didn’t exist and the world that now revolves around you was still in progress. At a certain point in this life, our soul and our flesh finally agree; Our time ahead of…
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John Thompson Guillén me and momma kept a puppy named alamedasecret from poppa and joie and clarice and dee-dubya and anne-bethasking why me and momma made a collar outta pull tabs offcoke cans and a sweatpant drawstringwhile alameda slept beneath stars and the wheelbarrowwhere she lapped hose water and ate the stale ends of breads…
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Joshua Cirotto Moody as the vagaries of the New Orleans weather,her clothes hang off her nonchalantlylike the moss off the tall trees.We walk down a long sidewalk flanked on either side by them,courtiers in her royal hallpillars of St. Louis cathedral.When she curses,sun flits through the clouds and warms my cheek.She broods on the patio…
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Bella Devega I wonder whether he would have wanted us to gazeupon those fourteen unsigned olive trees. Fifteen billowingwisps of hue, only one stroked with Vincent, pride etchedonto canvas pulled taut.Batty might be synonymous with genius these days,and we couldn’t leave dead and well alone,because he dared to see cerulean and indigoin a place men…
Hothouse 