Tag Archives: story

Television Ghost

Posted on September 8, 2025 by John Biscello

The Television Ghost, considered one of TV’s first dramatic series (1931-1933), belongs to the spectral repository of lost media. Since television technology was in its infancy, the transmission projected a single static image—that of the “Ghost” draped in a white … Continue reading →

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Say What?

Posted on September 7, 2025 by John Biscello

Survival Town was created outside of Las Vegas for the express purposes of being destroyed. The town was populated by mannequin families, who were curated and arranged in homes to model and mimic middle-class American values, ideals, and leisure. Democracy, … Continue reading →

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Night

Posted on September 7, 2025 by John Biscello

At night I go out, scorched and empty. I pool inside myself all day, every day, a sipping and flooding, and then I carry this out with me into the night. There is a hissing that I can hear out … Continue reading →

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Gazing Strip

Posted on September 5, 2025 by John Biscello

I am Beket, and this is my life, not in so many words, and in so many words. Voices, mirrors, masks. That’s what I barter and traffic in, my raison d’être, as the French would say. There are also long … Continue reading →

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Beket

Posted on September 5, 2025 by John Biscello

My name is Beket. That’s my first name, and my last. My mother was going to name me Becky, after some character in a novel she loved, but when she saw how silent I was as a baby (she said … Continue reading →

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Waves

Posted on September 5, 2025 by John Biscello

What is the difference between memory and fiction? What are the intersecting policies of their tenuous and subjective relationship? For example: You have a woman, a mother recalling her dead daughter. She sees her daughter playing on the beach, she … Continue reading →

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Memory Piece

Posted on September 4, 2025 by John Biscello

A young woman came to see me yesterday. I know it’s my daughter, yet something stops the word daughter from coming out of my mouth, any of my mouths. There is word-daughter and there is daughter-daughter and word-daughter is the … Continue reading →

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Remains of the Day

Posted on September 4, 2025 by John Biscello

The first spots were discovered, and contrary to my sense of fiction, they had nothing to do with extraterrestrials or loneliness. Nor poverty. Soon, no exact timetable, but soon my memories would no longer be mine. I would no longer … Continue reading →

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Plot

Posted on September 4, 2025 by John Biscello

Yesterday I buried my mother. Two mothers. Maybe three, or four. I have had many mothers in the small hours of this modest and shrinking life. All of my mothers are tassels of foam threading mighty surf. All of my … Continue reading →

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Bed

Posted on September 4, 2025 by John Biscello

I lie in wait. Hell is supposed to come anytime now. That’s what the others started calling that which was scheduled to come: hell. You would think that humans wouldn’t want to coordinate or administrate hell, but it seems they … Continue reading →

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