"In Vino Veritas (Truth in Wine)" Short Fiction Contest

Click HERE for the contest announcement and rules.

Click HERE for an interview with Jaye.


CONTEST OPEN UNTIL JULY 15TH, 11:00 P.M. (EASTERN U.S. TIME)

Index
Absolute Vanilla, Truth And Justice (#59)
Barnes, Ann, Morning Sun at the Lake (#58)
Beetner, Eric, Pinot Noir (#41)
BernardL, Stalker (#75)
Blanton, David, The Beautiful and the Damned (#44)
Caffrey, Angelique H., Exit Strategy (#54)
Cenni, Alexandra, Dust in the Wind (#38)
CharlesProgrammr, Prodigal Son (#73)
Cilia, Tanja, Wine, Woman... and No Song (#8)
Clevenger, Carrie, The Wine Speaks (#15)
Cormier, Sandra, How Will I Tell Him (#20)
Cozine, Herschel, Illusion (#56)
Davidson, Peter, Fingered (#51)
Dickson, Donna, The Chalice (#40)
Eaton, Loren, Claret (#21)
Edwards, Tessa, Vermilion Reflections (#17)
Eldin, Chris, Brotherly Advice (#1)
Ellis B., Civility (#68)
Ennis, Scott, Dilutions (#16)
Four Dinners, Red with Wine (#57)
Gillam, Christine, Verre De Vin (#2)
Gotch, Briony, Dinner with Wine (#33)
Green, Rachel, Beyond Words (#49)
Greenberg, KJ Hannah, Spelling New Neighbors (#39)
Hood, Rohan, In Vino Veritas (#30)
JimmieVee, Vintage (#31)
Kassa, Place Setting (#65)
Kramaric, Jackie, Megan Rose (#13)
Laine, Aimée, The Messenger">The Messenger (#25)
Laughingwolf, Lux in Tenebris (#11)
Laurenson, Sarah, Wine, Blood Red (#66)
Liadis, Liz, White Wedding (#70)
Liadis, Paul, A Matter of Taste (#24)
Lindstrom, Dianne, Fortune (#36)
Logic, Lucy, Crystal Melody (#69)
McAlpine, Lindsay, A Moment In Time (#6)
Monteleone, Merry, Foofy Coffee and Other Maladies (#5)
Montgomery, J.C., Fate’s Impatience (#62)
Montgomery, Laurel, One Last Drink (#27)
Mukherjee, Mithun, Eating Out (#46)
Napier, Katherine, The Veritas Arms (#3)
Nowviskie, Karen, Showtime (#64)
O'Connor, Oscar, The Pussy Cat (#67)
Pandey, Vinay, Vice Wine (#32)
Pires, Vic, Memory (#53)
Precie, Intimacy (#37)
Rahman, Mona, Chalice Of Life (#48)
Rickel, Danielle, Little Red (#28)
Ropi, In Vino Veritas – A True Story (#72)
Rosario, Blany Ashwin Francis, Alter Ego (#19)
Sagri, Margaret, "Our Father Who Art in Heaven..." (#22)
Salas, Alexander, Red Life (#14)
Scheer, Wayne, The Wine Tasting (#34)
Scott, Craig, A Single Glass of Red Wine (#47)
Seamans, Sandra, Ashes To Ashes (#42)
Shadow, Farewell (#10)
Singh, Adisha, The Artist (#60)
Slatter, Steve, Case of Merlot (#29)
Stevens, Hadley, Devine Truth (#52)
Stitzel, Jim, Conventus (#55)
Suryanarayanan, Entry #9
Taylor, Dottie, One Little Drink (#74)
Thakkar, Aniket, Wine Girl (#45)
Therese, Epitaph (#18)
Tomlinson, James R., The Sober Truth about Tyler & Zachary on Bickerstaff Street (#7)
Valentine, Jaye, Hot Under The Collar (#43)
Vibert, Catherine, Joan's Debut at The Met (#12)
Vogt, Josh, The Tasting Room (#26)
Watters, Kim, The Mix-up (#4)
Wavemancali, Patience (#35)
Weary, Kenneth, Who Ya Gonna Call? (#71)
Wert, Carla, Sunday Wine (#61)
Whirlochre, A Full Bodied Red (#50)
Wood, William, The Machinery of Self (#23)
Wrigley, Sylvia Spruck, In Vino Veritas (#63)

(As of July 12, 2009 at 3:50 p.m., we have received 92 entries and posted 75.)

As questions for Jaye? Just want to rap?? Comments on this post are the place.

Entry #75

Entry #75
Stalker
by BernardL


“What is it, Cara?”

Cara shivered. “This guy turns up nearly everywhere I go. He’s freaking me out, Joan.”

“Here?” Joan scanned the crowded barroom. “What’s he look like?”

“Big and creepy.”

“Wow… lots of detail. I gotta’ go. Terry meeting you?”

“Yes… I’m breaking up with him.”

“After only two dates?”

Cara shrugged. “No chemistry. He wants me. I don’t want him. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye.” Joan walked away.

A hand caressed her shoulder, startling Cara.

“Calm down, babe… I brought you a glass of red.”

Terry sat down. The wine glowed ominously. She gulped some, hoping for liquid courage.

“I can’t see you anymore.”

Terry grinned. “I figured as much.”

Cara felt woozy. Her vision blurred. She mumbled incoherently. Terry helped her stand, laughing with a wink at the nearby bar patrons.

“I better get you home, girl.”

Terry hustled Cara out to the parking lot. He shoved her into his Mercedes passenger seat. Cara’s consciousness ebbed with each passing second. She watched Terry fasten her seat belt. Through color highlighted haze Cara saw two massive hands engulf Terry’s head, twisting it to a grotesque angle. The snapping sound of a rotted tree branch assaulted her ears. Terry fell away from view. Eerie blue eyes in an oddly familiar face replaced Terry’s. Huge calloused fingers brushed against her face gently. Cara smelled old leather bound books.

“No one bothers my little Cara.”

And then he was gone. Cara smiled, allowing grainy darkness to wash over her.

Entry #74

One Little Drink
by Dottie Taylor


“Come on, just one little drink, what could it hurt” he encouraged, grinning wickedly.

“I never break the rules, and going to strange man's room for a drink is a big one” I smiled shyly, desire to break the rules was never stronger.

“Do I look like a strange man, I've never thought of myself as strange” he moved closer, brushing his hand over my bared shoulder and back, caressing lightly.

His touch sent shivers across my body, I rubbed the goose flesh. Suddenly, I heard my lips say the fateful words, “Okay, just one drink, five minutes, that's all.”

He grabbed my hand, smiling broadly, victory in his eyes, “What are we waiting for, let's go!”

I looked back at my friends as we ran down the hall to the darken walkaway that led from the atrium to the rest of the hotel, to the forbidden rooms. If I was missed, I was going to be in big trouble.

“See, that wasn't so bad” he grinned as he popped the room lock, hurrying me inside to the waiting darkness. I turned into his seeking arms, his lips on mine, his hunger and desire throbbing through me.

“Where's my drink” I whispered, heart pounding in response.

His lips grazed my neck as he softly breathed “My drink first.” His teeth plunged into my flesh, drinking deeply of the one little drink that was me, the wine to quench his thirst.

Entry #73

Prodigal Son
by CharlesProgrammr


It was merely a glass of wine. Someone during all of the gaiety of this celebration of Alan's return had misplaced it, setting it down and forgetting where, likely fetching another upon realization of misplacing it. It wasn't likely more than 4 ounces of wine, less than a single ounce of alcohol.

Alan had been away from the family for 3 years, had not spoken with any of his family or his old friends. He remembered the glorious taste of the wine when he first sipped the glass, the first of half a dozen. Alan was the prodigal son come home.

He remembered drinking in the sight of Amanda--beautiful Amanda, who had been his, even until he went on his 'walkabout' to find himself. Amanda, who had given herself to him on the beach one evening after the pair of them had split a bottle Alan had stolen from his parents' liquor cabinet. She seemed to still be in love with him, clinging to him as he climbed into his car to leave. He was wondering about the child seat in her car, distracted when the bicycle's lights popped up as he crested the hill. Alan's reflexes weren't the best after drinking, and he really should have waited until most of it had cleared his system. A screech, then a large oak.

A single glass of wine, red, lighter than the red that now flowed from his body. A glass as deadly as any poison to a recovering alcoholic.

Entry #72

In Vino Veritas – A True Story
by Ropi


Nero was a handsome guy,
But he had a problem in his mind,
He was drinking all the time,
Neglecting his lovely wife.

It was over midnight,
But Nero hadn’t arrived,
Was he drinking again?
Was it beer or wine?

Shouting wife, it was not a good sign,
But everything was going to be fine.
Poor Nero had a secret lover,
His heart was beating for her.

Being drunk meant being dumber
He revealed his affair,
His wife gave his way,
But he wouldn’t let it in this way.

He was Punching and kicking,
while she was crying,
She fell on the floor
And didn’t wake up anymore.

Entry #71

Who Ya Gonna Call?
by Kenneth Weary


Hunting ghosts is hard work, but it paid the bills. I reminded myself of that as I ran through the dank halls of Westin Hills Hospital. I had only been a freelance exorcist for two years, but I was one of the best.Though one couldn't tell if they saw me now. I was shaking in my boots. I hated haunted buildings. I had been hired to rid the old hospital of a ghostly teen girl who had died in a fire in 1889. A spiteful little bitch, Franny had caused rebuilding to be delayed indefinitely with her tantrums. Suddenly, the dusty double doors blew open as a whirlwind pursued me, Fran the center of its eye.

She had caught me off guard and I gave a little whimper. Taking a swig of red wine from my Hello Kitty flask, I braced myself. Franny sighted me and blew forward in a rage. I reached into my bag and pulled out my trusty-- stake?

"Shit!" I cried. I had meant to bring my cross. The Damned were afraid of God, a stake was not acceptable. I didn't have time to react as I was swept up in Franny's ghostly wind. Time to improvise, I thought. Pulling my lighter from my pocket, I filled my mouth with red wine and spit it on the flame. Franny screamed in the flare and dropped me. she hovered by the ceiling and gathered herself, then rushed forward again. I was ready.

"Bring it bitch," I muttered.