Category: Stories

A soft-focus close-up peers down into a pale green drink containing mint and a curl of sliced cucumber. The ingredients dissolve into luminous shapes, their boundaries blurred by glass and liquid. Shades of mint, lime, and yellow-green fill the frame, giving the image a cool, muddled, almost abstract quality. Freshness and sharpness mingle in this hazy study of sweet and sour. Photo by the author.

“Sweet and Sour” * Fiction * Karin Doucette

aromatica poetica August 26, 2026

Like many young-marrieds in the 1970s, Bob and Jill devoured Siddhartha and Vonnegut, appreciated Hendrix, and filled their bodies with revolutionary meals from the spiralbound pages of Moosewood Cookbook and the Diet for a Small Planet. They bought a small, shingled house, set back from the Seattle street, which they papered, painted, and flower-potted with vigor. Both got good jobs and then had a healthy, happy son. On TV, Julia Child stirred an enticing pot of life’s possibilities which captured …

Centered within a wide white border is a black-and-white photograph of a devastated urban street framed tightly around an elderly man sitting on a wooden bench. He is bald and dressed in a dark suit, white shirt, and tie. His posture is slightly forward, with one hand resting on the bench and the other near the handle of a long cane that extends diagonally. Facing the camera, his expression is solemn and composed rather than overtly emotional. Immediately behind him stands a tracked construction vehicle, its heavy metal body filling much of the middle ground. The background consists of a ruined city street lined with bomb-damaged buildings. Rubble spills across sidewalks and into the roadway. On the right, the shell of a commercial building survives, the letters of its faded sign are difficult to decipher. Farther back, fragments of taller buildings and decorative towers punctuate the skyline, hinting at the neighborhood's former architectural richness. The overall effect is one of profound stillness: a solitary man quietly inhabiting a landscape of last days. (Public domain, from the author.)

“Last Days of Ambrogino” * Fiction * Peter J. Dellolio

aromatica poetica August 7, 2026

I was told that after the war a patrol of soldiers found me lying unconscious in an abandoned building in a town I could not remember. The soldiers brought me to a hospital where I was gradually revived and given medication for some wounds I had received. These were not gunshot wounds. When I awoke, I could not recall who I was or where I had come from. That is, I did not know if I belonged to this town, …

A stack of pancakes on a white plate, covered with caramel-coloured syrup and topped with whipped cream and blueberries. The syrup drips down the sides of the pancakes, and the whipped cream flows over the front edge like a thick ribbon. Many blueberries are scattered on the pancakes and around the plate. Several black sparrows are gathered around the food. One bird stands on top of the pancakes pecking near the blueberries. Two birds stand near the front-left edge of the plate, close to scattered blueberries. Another bird stands to the right of the plate, facing inward. Additional birds are flying in the sky in the background. The setting is a snowy Alaska landscape with pale, misty mountains in the distance and a cloudy, bright sky. Created and described with ChatGPT.

“Fading into Alaska” * Short Story * Tatiana Samokhina

aromatica poetica March 25, 2026

There are three of them—pancakes—on a round plate in front of me. Fluffy, with bubble craters, dark-orange toasted patches spread out like a thin spiderweb. A mountain of whipped cream holds blueberry beads, glinting slightly under the dim light of the Persian-style café chandelier. I flinch when he snaps, “Alissa?” “Huh?” I look up, a fork tight between my fingers. Across the table—Victor, my boyfriend of three years. His flat cheeks, rubicund. His mouth—a single, long line. He breaks it, …

A grainy, high-contrast black-and-white photograph of an older man walking a large dog along a fog-shrouded path. The man stands slightly right of centre, wearing a long belted overcoat, a scarf, gloves, and a fedora-style hat. He holds the dog’s leash in his right hand; his posture is upright but relaxed. The dog walks to his left, head lowered slightly, appearing calm and attentive. A wooden split-rail fence runs along the left side of the path, receding into the background and partly obscured by mist. Bare tree branches arch overhead and dissolve into the fog, creating a soft, blurred canopy. The ground looks wet or muddy, with faint reflections and scattered leaves. The image edges show worn, scratched borders that give the photograph a vintage, weathered appearance. Overall mood is quiet, contemplative, and slightly melancholic. Created by ChatGPT, described by Be My AI, for Late Shift at the Museum of Smells.

“Late Shift at the Museum of Smells” * Fiction * Chris Cottom

aromatica poetica February 4, 2026

I’m working afternoons on our enquiries desk. ‘Old leather walking boots?’ asks a raincoated lady who reminds me of Gran. ‘Freshly buffed with beeswax dubbin?’ I’m gagging for a cup of tea. ‘Sorry, madam. The museum’s banned bee-based treatments.’ Across our cavernous hall, kids are staggering out of our ‘Monarch Immersion Experience’ clutching their heads. Our historic odours unit has recreated the execution of Charles I. It’s a blend of blue blood and horseshit that’s nasally indistinguishable from the real …

A group of people sitting together on a hay-covered wagon pulled by a horse on a Halloween night. The atmosphere is joyful and celebratory, with one person holding a large, brightly colored rainbow pride flag up high. The people on the hayride are waving and smiling, dressed in various colorful clothes. Warm, glowing autumn trees surround the path, and the dark sky is dotted with a few stars. The whole scene is painted with a soft, dreamy quality, giving it a festive and inclusive feeling. By ChatGPT – inspired by “Hard to Get” by Mike Lewis-Beck.

“Hard to Get” * A Short Story * Mike Lewis Beck

aromatica poetica October 13, 2025

Hilda believed she couldn’t marry Rick, even though she loved him. She believed this because she stood married to Herbert, her first love. Her mother, Audrey Ann, told her, the morning of the twenty-pew church wedding at Lovely Lane Methodist. “Hildie, marriage makes us whole, in the eyes of our Lord, in the eyes of friends and family—love, honor, and obey. Herbert has moved up to second teller at the bank. He’s clean cut and never drinks on Sundays. When …

A white morel (Morchella americana) growing in mossy soil on the bank of the Grand River in Michigan. By Iain Walker - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=126114263.

“WANTING” * Fiction * Mike Lewis-Beck

aromatica poetica January 30, 2024

Hilda has it all. She’s 42, mother of bubbly two-year-old Todd, and a professor of intellectual property law, where she has just made a bundle—her share in an inheritance suit deploying ‘The Eustace Diamond Defense’—which persuaded the judge to allow Mrs. Mandolini to keep the family diamonds her late husband, olive oil magnate Giuseppe Mandolini, had lavished upon her. Besides these personal and professional triumphs, she has just won a weight-lifting trophy at her fitness club, for executing a 190-pound …

The image is curtesy the Bing image generator with the following prompt: Paint a portrait of a forceful and formidable female figure with platinum blonde hair, exaggerated features, including large red lips. She is dressed in 1950’s glamorous fashion. The painting should have bold and expressive brushstrokes, fragmented and distorted features, and a vibrant color palette.

“Blonde Noir” * Short Story * DC Diamondopolous

aromatica poetica December 27, 2023

Kit Covington sat on the sofa in her Pacific Palisades mansion with a cigarette lodged in the side of her mouth. A cloud of smoke floated around her head. She adjusted the oxygen tube in her nose, then brushed ash from her dog Muffin’s champagne-colored curls. The miniature poodle dozing in Kit’s lap startled when the camera crew from The Great Morning Talk Show banged equipment into Kit’s antique furniture. “Watch it! You scratch anything, you’ll pay for the restoration.” …

A man and a woman sit at a kitchen table that’s draped romantically with a white tablecloth and a rose at its center. The woman in a pretty frilly collared dress looks judgingly at the man who is about to dig into his plate of meat, potatoes and greens with gusto. The fridge with magnets, a stove with simmering pot, and wood floors leading to another door are in the background. Scent tentacles reach out of the objects in their respective colors: purple for the wine, red for the rose, brown for the meat, etc. Illustration by Alabaster Rhumb.

“Anosmia” * Fiction * Tara Ison

aromatica poetica October 26, 2023

It’s early days yet (a casual omelet bar meet-up, then a nice though not too-pricey bistro dinner), but she thinks it’s going well, so far. Her friend Jean thought they’d hit it off, that Rose would like this public defender guy Jean met at some wedding and interrogated over the tarragon chicken, on Rose’s behalf, about his relationship status; Jean said he checked all the boxes Rose thinks are important, and so felt fine passing along her number. She and …

This creative and whimsical image features a large, brown dog's head and nose in space, hovering above a small Earth. The dog (probably a Basset Hound) has droopy ears and a calm expression. The Earth is depicted with blue oceans and green and brown land masses—you can make out the general shapes of continents such as North and South America, Africa, and parts of Europe and Asia. The background is a starry night sky with various galaxies and stars. The starry background appears to be a photograph, while the dog and the Earth seem to be drawn or digitally created, giving the image a mix of realism and illustration. Illustration by Alabaster Rhumb, description by Be My AI, lightly edited.

“The Nose of the World” * Fiction * Amber Burke

aromatica poetica September 20, 2023

Because you are good to me, and because I pity you for all the things you do not know, and because I want you to understand me, I will tell you how the world smells. If you could know the truth of it, you would wake up the way I wake up, besieged, inveigled, incredulous, impatient, the iridescent scent of hummingbirds already burning my nostrils: the smells, the smells! I need you to open the door so I can throw …

Pop art image of an ice cream birthday cake melting on a red leather car seat. DALL E plus a little Alabaster magic.

“Car With Cake” * Fiction * Mike Lewis-Beck

aromatica poetica June 1, 2023

Look, said Dick. See the red car. Jane said, Oh, look! It goes fast. A flashback to gramps reading Dick and Jane, about a little toy car—so unlike the real red car I’ve been working on. A beauty, I think, as I park it on a red-brick street, down from Carmine’s red-brick cottage. It’s autumn and the street’s lined with maples and their colorful leaves—canary, caramel, crimson. A group of kids with marshmallows-on-a-stick are huddled around a small bonfire …