There is an Award For The Worst Intro Paragraph to a Novel
by Fraser Hibbitt for the Carl Kruse BlogEvery year, writers from around the world submit their entries to the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest; the prize is a pittance, but the winner […]
This. That. Bric-a-brac.
by Fraser Hibbitt for the Carl Kruse BlogEvery year, writers from around the world submit their entries to the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest; the prize is a pittance, but the winner […]
by Hazel Anna Rogers for the Carl Kruse Blog My mamie is a tiny woman. No one knows why she’s so very small, but some have suggested that her mother […]
I had to kill myself to be born again. Cabo da Roca, the western point of Europe. On 20th September 2021, I took off with three bags and fled Italy. […]
by Hazel Anna Rogers for the Carl Kruse Blog It is that the world is saturated, without respite nor release. It is that the doors, while open where they once […]
by Asia Leonardi for the Carl Kruse Blog Day one wasn’t the best. It must have been the tiredness of the plane, or perhaps the immediate awareness of being in […]
by Hazel Anna Rogers for the Carl Kruse Blog EDITORIAL NOTE: The opinions expressed by Hazel are her own, and may not reflect the opinions of Carl Kruse or of […]
By Asia Leonardi for the Carl Kruse Blog Since ancient times, the Mandrake has been surrounded by legend, myth, alchemical rites and black magic. Over the centuries, various qualities have […]
by Fraser Hibbitt for the Carl Kruse Blog The successive interweaving of the familiar and the fantastical marks Pan’s Labyrinth as a profound meditation on choice. Del Toro’s ‘dark fairytale’ […]
by Hazel Anna Rogers for the Carl Kruse Blog I have been writing poetry for many years now. Lust was the hallmark of my earlier works, though not always of […]
by Hazel Anna Rogers for the Carl Kruse Blog The water is of the brightest hue. She is almost royal blue, so jubilant is her shade. No current nor wind […]
by Hazel Anna Rogers I have felt very alone of late. These years have been tumultuous — both personally and on a global scale — and there is something unsettling […]
by Fraser Hibbitt “Glorious night to meet the lips, to do penance” spoke the cloaked figure of an elderly woman to three more veiled forms who uttered brief means of […]