Revolutionary Trio
Photography by Michael Anthony
“Sometimes silence speaks louder than words”
Michael Anthony is an American artist and writer. He has published fiction, poetry, illustrations, and photographs in literary journals and commercial magazines. His work may be viewed at: MichaelAnthony.MyPortfolio.com
Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Monument to a Failed Relationship
Fiction by Terry Holland
CW: Disturbing Imagery
Give & take
We swing meat hooks on the ends of cables at one another over a distance of many yards. Each swing unerringly finds its mark, digging in and gouging out a perfect pound of flesh.
Hunks of meat crash against the white walls of this abattoir of the passions, leaving bloody trails as they slide down and pile up on the guttered floor to rot. Food for flies.
Bread & circuses
The low-hung chandeliers contrast effectively with the tile & concrete industrial chic of the pop-up restaurant. Like the setting, the food is agonisingly hip and astonishingly good – from soft, fresh focaccia with faux foie gras to sumptuous, deconstructed passionfruit trifle.
The tables are set far apart and our conversation flows like the organic wine; honest, bountiful and uninhibited. Just as we are wondering whether to order one last glass or an espresso to wake us for the drive home, you lean in, a serious look clouding your face. “The thing is,” you say in a tone I’ve never heard you use before, “there’s something I need to say…”
Flora & fauna
After the flower has blossomed, the petals desiccate and become brittle brown, forming a delicate latticework around the young fruit. Like the fretwork of a Moorish lamp or an ossified dancer’s veil, masking the berry from prying eyes until it shatters on a wind-borne sigh, falling to the ground. Food for birds.
Give & take
We swing meat hooks on the ends of cables at one another over a distance of many yards. Each swing unerringly finds its mark, digging in and gouging out a perfect pound of flesh.
Hunks of meat crash against the white walls of this abattoir of the passions, leaving bloody trails as they slide down and pile up on the guttered floor to rot. Food for flies.
Bread & circuses
The low-hung chandeliers contrast effectively with the tile & concrete industrial chic of the pop-up restaurant. Like the setting, the food is agonisingly hip and astonishingly good – from soft, fresh focaccia with faux foie gras to sumptuous, deconstructed passionfruit trifle.
The tables are set far apart and our conversation flows like the organic wine; honest, bountiful and uninhibited. Just as we are wondering whether to order one last glass or an espresso to wake us for the drive home, you lean in, a serious look clouding your face. “The thing is,” you say in a tone I’ve never heard you use before, “there’s something I need to say…”
Flora & fauna
After the flower has blossomed, the petals desiccate and become brittle brown, forming a delicate latticework around the young fruit. Like the fretwork of a Moorish lamp or an ossified dancer’s veil, masking the berry from prying eyes until it shatters on a wind-borne sigh, falling to the ground. Food for birds.
Terry Holland grew up in Essex, England, before studying in London and Berlin. He has dabbled in the theatre, music, journalism, translation and the occult and currently lives in the Netherlands with his black cat, Mackem.
He writes flash and short stories and will never, ever write a novel.
BS: @terryholland.bsky.social
He writes flash and short stories and will never, ever write a novel.
BS: @terryholland.bsky.social
