The Adventures of Aloises Felinor La Quintanilla

By Francis Camaquin

Chapter 1: Derivative Drivel

There once was boy with very large pockets. He kept many things in those pockets. Everything he had acquired from his travels, he kept there. Pockets littered his pants and coat, hidden in the linings, sewn into the sides. He had added a new pocket every time he had filled up all of the existing ones.
This boy traveled nearly everywhere. He had seen and experienced many things, and he always tried to save something from each of his adventures so that he could remember the events. After one particularly arduous journey, the tired boy stopped to rest at a huge city. On his way to his friend’s house, he stopped at a shop with a window display that had caught his attention. Through the glass, behind the display, he saw the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He stood there in awe for a few minutes and he couldn’t move. She was buying a book from the shopkeeper and right after she paid, she walked out the door, past the boy to the cafe across the street.

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Posted by The Better Blog on 10/20 at 09:27 PM
Filed under: Francis A. Camaquin • Fiction •

The Man with the Hat with no Name

By Francis A. Camaquin

There once was a man who had a hat. He loved his hat very much. He took it everywhere and only took it off when to a shower or go to sleep. To understand how much he loved this hat, you would have to imagine yourself without a soul. If you believe in a god or have ever believed in a god, then you most certainly believe or have believed in a soul. And without your soul, you are nothing. A void in the universe. A hole without an end. A world without a future. So was this man without his hat.

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Posted by The Better Blog on 07/16 at 08:32 PM
Filed under: Francis A. Camaquin • Fiction •

Bankrupt From Slang

By Francis Camaquin

I still love her. Loved her more when she used to be sober and I was kinder.

She was an undercover fashionista, a retail slave that kept selling cotton in the belief that she’d be content if she had brunch every Sunday for the rest of her life. Saucy, witty, fine taste in literature and eager for new music; for some this was a bit unsettling, but for others, the drama was satisfying. She held wine tasting parties once or twice a month, where each guest was to bring a paper bagged bottle of wine retailed at under ten dollars. She numbered the guests’ bottles and asked them to secretly write down the vineyard and year in her 99 cent store acquired guestbook. After enough tasting had been done, everyone would announce their favorite wines and their identities would be revealed. Everyone who was invited always had an amazing time, and walked or biked home hammered. There was always at least one person thinking of her on the way to the 38 stop.

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Posted by The Better Blog on 06/07 at 12:00 AM
Filed under: Francis A. Camaquin • Non-Fiction •