Black Petals Issue #103, Spring, 2023

Home
Editor's Page
BP Artists and Illustrators
Mars-News, Views and Commentary
All the Sky Is Waiting to Be Told: Fiction by Daniel I. Clark
Fire Sale: Fiction by Christopher Pate
Kregah: Fiction by Ron Capshaw
The Beauty of Machinery: Fiction by Hayden Seay
The Cold Sore: Fiction by Chris McGuinness
The Lake: Fiction by Harper Hargis
The Price: Fiction by Josh Hanson
The Tailbone Is Connected to the Hipbone: Fiction by Michael Fowler
The Thorn Tree: Fiction by Lawrence Buentello
They: Fiction by Tony Ayers
Work Experience: Fiction by Martin Taulbut
Burns: 3 Connected Drabbles by Hillary Lyon
Grandma Medusa: Flash Fiction by M. L. Fortier
I'm So Sorry, Computer: Flash Fiction by M. L. Fortier
Invasive: Flash Fiction by Paul Radcliffe
Jumper: Flash Fiction by Kurt Hohmann
Personal Things: Flash Fiction by Cindy Rosmus
The Good Doctor: Flash Fiction by Ron Capshaw
Another Tomato Invasion, Again: Poem by I. N. Shimabuku
Curse of the Crazies: Poem by Kenneth Vincent Walker
Ghosted: Poem by Kenneth Vincent Walker
Meteor Moon: Poem by Kenneth Vincent Walker
Halo Around the Sun: Poem by Kenneth Vincent Walker
Maker's Image: Poem by Bindi Lavelle
Specimen: Poem by Bindi Lavelle
Blood-stained Jupiter: Poem by Meg Smith
Cat Science: Poem by Meg Smith
Mortician's Powder: Poem by Meg Smith
The Pinups of the Afterlife: Poem by Meg Smith
Dark Gate Park: Poem by Meg Smith
A turntable fabricates hope during the apocalypse in 3 parts: Poem by Dennis Bagwell
Reverend Mother Munchausen: Poem by Sophia Wiseman-Rose
Whispers of Winter: Poem by Ashley N. Goodwin
A Man Is Nothing Without His Wife: Poem by Ashley N. Goodwin

Kurt Hohmann: Jumper

bp_103_thejumper_kjhannah.jpg
Art by KJ Hannah Greenberg 2023

JUMPER

by Kurt Hohmann

 

 

The air buffeted him, stole the breath from his lungs. Hateful words clung with barbed hooks to his lips, his throat. But the hurricane force was not enough to blow out...

The fire that had first ignited in his face and later immolated his guts. His soul, seared open by white-hot coals of rage, could not begin to vaporize...

The water of his tears rushing forth, rivers of sorrow that poured into a vast sea of despair. The ocean could not cushion him from...

The earth that grew ever larger, dirt and stone yearning to forever embrace flesh and bone.






Kurt Hohmann (www.kurthohmann.com) tells stories, builds altars to pagan gods, drums 'round the bonfire, and crafts mad culinary experiments. He shares a home in the wild snowy lands of central New York with his wife, two living cats, at least six feline ghosts, and one rather affectionate python. His tales have been featured in Commuter Lit, Aphelion, Half Hour to Kill, Yellow Mama, Literally Stories, Dark Fire, Bookends Review, and Eternal Haunted Summer.





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