Tag Archives: story

O.T.B.

Posted on February 9, 2017 by John Biscello

   It was one of the hot-spots on the avenue. The place where the men hung out every day. It was their church, their sanctuary, their cave, a place where the regular lives went away for a little while. My … Continue reading →

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Street Corner

Posted on February 8, 2017 by John Biscello

   It was a vicious arena, gladiator combat conducted with tongues.    To survive on a Brooklyn street corner you needed you needed to be quick on the verbal draw. It was easy, always on the defensive, one’s metaphysical position … Continue reading →

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Glow

Posted on February 8, 2017 by John Biscello

   The coke parties were my favorite. It was when everyone was happiest. Everyone meant my father, my mother, and their friends, Teddy and Debby. Occasionally, Debby’s brother, Wayne,  was part of everyone.    My mother would say—Teddy and Debby … Continue reading →

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Tali’s

Posted on February 5, 2017 by John Biscello

   It was a thing. Every Tuesday night at around 7 or 8, the black Cadillac Sedan would pull up in front of Tali’s bar, and the driver would hustle around to the other side of the car, open the … Continue reading →

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Seeker

Posted on February 4, 2017 by John Biscello

   Ready or not, here I come.    I can still hear my voice, calling out, a bright echo in an archival loop.    Hide and seek was a game we used to play all the time.    At my … Continue reading →

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Miss Roach

Posted on February 4, 2017 by John Biscello

    Kenny named her Miss Roach. He named her that because of the stiletto heels she always wore.    Look at them—he’d always point at the heels first, as if she were an extension of the heels and not … Continue reading →

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Tracy

Posted on February 3, 2017 by John Biscello

   I won’t say Tracy was the first girl I ever fell in love with, but she was definitely my first obsession. I was sixteen at the time, she was fifteen.    She was a friend of my friend, Camille, … Continue reading →

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Bones & the Blue

Posted on February 3, 2017 by John Biscello

My uncle was a full blown junkie. He was rail-thin, a mongrel with no bite. I liked hanging out with him. He had a sweetness and gentleness to him. He was a soft whisper whereas my father was a volcanic … Continue reading →

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My Unreal Family

Posted on February 3, 2017 by John Biscello

   At times I feel like I invented them, along with the rest of my childhood. Which, in a sense, I suppose I have. They are who they are they are, regardless of my perceptions and analysis, yet  I have, … Continue reading →

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Some Kind of Summer

Posted on August 9, 2016 by John Biscello

   J.B., I have to kill someone by the end of summer.    Joe Ninj stated this casually, as if it were a school assignment or project with a deadline.    Five minutes earlier we had been integrated into our … Continue reading →

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