Tag Archives: J.E. Reich

Outside the Flapperhouse – 7.2.2014

Here are some writings our beloved Flappers have posted & published around the internet in the past couple weeks:

J. Bradley responded to SCOTUS’ Hobby Lobby decision with his poem “Where the White People Are: Women’s Reproductive Rights” at The New Verse News.

Mila Jaroniec recounted her “Brief History of Blackouts” in an essay for Medium.

Bonnie Jo Stufflebeam‘s short story “Hero” appeared yesterday at Daily Science Fiction.  UPDATE: Bonnie also had a story go up at Hobart last week, the amazingly-titled “The Stink of Horses: Excerpts From The Marina Golovina Controversy By the Ballet Book Series.”

Jeff Laughlin coped with a metaphysical hangover in his Hunter S. Thompson-esque “A Night Without Peace at Bowman Gray” over at Triad City Beat.

J.E. Reich‘s “Breakers” (from our current issue) was read aloud on last week’s broadcast of Mr. Bear’s Violet Hour Saloon, and it was also reposted at Medium under the title “Teasing it Open.”

Rebecca Ann Jordan‘s magical realist tale “This Is No Garden” was recently published at Swamp Biscuits and Tea.

Tom Stephan posted the very creepy “A Summertime Tale” last week. We’re not sure if it’s a true story or not, and we’re too scared to ask him for the answer.

FLAPPERHOUSE #2 is Now on Sale!

FLAPPERHOUSE #2 is no longer for sale– because it’s now available for free!
Just click the cover to read.



“The Heartless Boy”Ed Ahern
“The fallow months,” “What’s cooking” – Daniel Ari
“Faerie Medicine” – Julie Day
“San Vicente”Robin Wyatt Dunn
“Lemon Lane” – Foust
“Boko”John Grey
“The Virgin”Dylan Jackson
“The Workaday World,” “Lunch” Jeff Laughlin
“One of those women” – Aoibheann McCann
“Waning & Waiting,” “Erotics of Silence”Lonnie Monka
“Still Shooting” – Todd Pate
“Birdy Told Me” – Frederick Pollack
“Breakers”J.E. Reich
“The New Mother” – Judith Skillman
“Scars”Bonnie Jo Stufflebeam
“Other Side of the Fence”Anna Tizard
“Hypothetical Foundations of a Quantum Theory of Familial Social Physics”
Joseph Tomaras

“Breakers” – Fiction by J.E. Reich

Birthday - Marc Chagall, 1915
Birthday – Marc Chagall, 1915

“There are two things one is absolutely forbidden to write about: writers and bars.” We love how J.E. Reich’s  “Breakers” doesn’t give a flap about such silly rules– and that’s just one of many reasons why we chose to include this story in our Summer 2014 issue (FLAPPERHOUSE #2, currently procurable for only $3 US).

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I WENT ON A DATE WITH A WRITER WHO WAS LITTLE MORE THAN A RACKETEER. At the exhibit showcasing the works of the long-dead artist who had once been in exile from an old country, he read the descriptions of the paintings and wrote down one word from each on his uncalloused palm.  He was merely borrowing, would save these words for later. I tried to catch them while I drifted from painting to painting of women and bouquets, levitating upwards.  Exuberant, one might have said, or maybe exhume.  They fluttered and crumpled each time he closed his palm.  The rituals of creative types are only a few degrees away from felony.

Afterwards, we went to a bar, where the writer told me that there are two things one is absolutely forbidden to write about: writers and bars.

I told him that when I was a kid, I used to drink my mother’s aromatized vermouth straight from the bottle and never even blinked; how the burn would wear the silk recesses of my throat, to sever it from the inside-out.  I was a young drinker: twelve, thirteen.

Erode, he said.  It would erode your throat.

Yeah, okay, I mean, it would erode it, I guess.

A date between two men or a date between two women might as well take place on an analyst’s expensive chaise.  Here are the ways in which my life has been harder.  Let me count them, let me hold them up for you to see, let’s both feel bad together.

His username had been HexameterMe; his online dating profile had listed his occupation under Creative/Writing/Art.  So of course, I asked about it.

Well, yeah, I freelance. He paused.  The dark mahogany light of the bar dimmed for the exchange of ambience.  A stout, unlit candle stood on every table.  I also work for an agency.  I database for them.  I database during the day.  So he, too, wanted to be his better self. Continue reading “Breakers” – Fiction by J.E. Reich