Love Stinks But Life is Worse

Is it ironic or inevitable that I hate Valentine's Day with what can only be described as a kind of burning passion? It's the greatest con in American history. Well, almost. You just can't win...

Katy Munger

An extract from my first novel 'Pickle to Pie'.

Suddenly she calls in English, ‘Fredi, where you be?’
Even though I sit very still she sees me.
‘What you do?’
‘I’m playing.’

Glenice Whitting

The Ghost of John MacMurphey

The priest waved his hands towards the congregation asking if anyone wanted to speak. The room was small and there was only a couple dozen mourners, but as usual they all refused the invitation. The priest nodded his head in understanding and stepped back towards the microphone...

Richard W. Kelly

Power of Positive Thinking

The sun breeched the horizon spilling liquid gold across the early morning canopy of palms. I was made aware of the symphony of paraquats hidden away in the banyan trees screeching their discord over who was to eat first...

Andrew Pacholyk

The Tie That Binds

I had never been in such a store. I wandered up and down each aisle rather amazed by the sheer amount of merchandise available. There were lawnmowers here right next to the light bulbs...

Barbara Daniels Dena

Fire of a Comet’s Tail.

Woken by her fever, Kate rolled over carefully and drew open the bed curtains to the light of a single candle guttering by the bed. Moonlight pooled over the nearby window-seat from its partially uncovered window, making a gossamer pond on the floor...

Wendy J Dunn

Kirstie's Tale - Part One - A Dream of White Horses

I sit on the dune, staring out to sea where, under a stiff breeze the surf rolls in, tossing its white horses onto the beach.
The surf fascinates me, frothing and boiling as it dances over the sand, holding me in its spell in the way a flame will hypnotise, enrapturing the eye. ..

Kat Canfield

The Haunting

Cold snow and harsh winds blanket the atmosphere around her. As her eyes gaze toward the forest that sits quietly next to her home, she thinks of him. A ghost in her memory whose fingerprints on her skin still leave a visible mark...

Avianna Lemonier

Thunder In Heaven

When does a mother's love become conditional?
Do wealth and social status play a role in the extent to which a child is loved?
Why do some children get to bathe in the brightness of love while others are only allowed to taste the smallest fragments of its sweetness?

Avianna Lemonier

Snakes In The Garden

Her husband didn't notice her bulging belly or her plump, round face.
But she did.
He didn't notice the changes in her movement or the way that she had started to struggle to climb the staircase that led to the second story of their picturesque townhouse...

Avianna Lemonier

Excerpt from "All We Need Is Love: In Service to the Light Book One"

Thus is it – a transcription of the unique Message of Archangel Michael and the Team as interpreted by and flowing through Vessel [author's note: "Vessel" is what they call Michele Baker]...

Michele Baker

Maria and the Ocean

Not many people know this story. A story from before the waves. Before the winds. Before the sandstorms and tropical storms and all the other storms. Many would say it’s not true. But they said the same thing about carbon and look at us now...

Bruno Martins Soares

The Well 2

The land was verdant and lush with plenty of fruit trees, elm, maple and oak trees that spread far and wide over thirty acres of land. The old farm house was in ruins now...

Janice Spina

Hearing Ghosts

Hard to believe she’d finally done it. The struggles of six years of a degree in elementary education with her focus on special education, on top of another two years of receiving her Maryland Certification in American Sign Language...

Loni Lynne

The Interview

Breathe in... one two three. Breathe out... one two three.
 
Nova Elliot closed her eyes as she counted her slow breaths. She stood on the balcony outside her marketing firm’s building...

Kristen James

The Coroner and the Body in the Bath

The man in the bath sat slumped over to his left, with his eyes closed and his head covered in blood that had matted his otherwise dark brown hair. The six-inch-deep water had been tinged red...

Paul Austin Ardoin

It Might Be You

So, this was her new and exciting life in Florida?
Serina Spring sighed and tossed down her losing hand of cards. On a sunny Wednesday afternoon in one of Florida’s most beautiful cities, here she was, playing Michigan Rummy with a rowdy group of octogenarians...

Tara September

Angelo's Stigmata

Everywhere in the city, he could see the signs of spring. Pigeons, small finches, and red-breasted robins hunted for a meal in the vacant lots and in the parks. The snow had melted and all that remained were oily puddles drying in the naked sunshine...

Paula D. Tozer

A Christmas Carolus

It was the Saturday night before the Writers’ Club December meeting and sitting at his computer, Adam Carpenter was at a loss about what he was going to write for the ghost story competition...

​

"A Race Against Time"

For Mandira Wasgare, entering Hermanos Amejeiros Hospital in Havana on a December afternoon, death is as near as it can be. Minutes… seconds… matter.

Peter Jennings

An excerpt from Circles, Lines, and Squiggles: Astrology for the Curious-Minded

When we think of the symbolic nature of numbers, several numbers come immediately to mind: 1, 3, 4, 7, 9, and 12, with each number carrying a set of associations based on their numerical properties...

W. Nikola-Lisa

Do Turtles Ever Cry

Nightmares plagued me. Crazy, scary images that vanished in a fog as soon as I was fully conscious. A rapid heartbeat, agitated breathing and an overpowering sense of fear—telltale signs of how bad my brain was messed up...

​

TROUBLE ON THE DOMED CITY OF KANAI

After searching the base, Onolyn Larcomb spotted Captain Zachary Kwao on the palace airport tarmac. He stood out because of his bright red hair. “Zac!” she shouted to get his attention. He looked up and she ran toward him...

Heidi Skarie

Spirits in the Night

My dead father isn't talking to me. That he doesn't talk to me is odd, since every other spirit talks to me, they all do. But for some reason he's reticent, dumb, mute. No thoughts, no words, no sudden appearances to guide me, to give me direction or inspiration in my life and ways, good or bad...

Mitchell Waldman

Yule Time Truce

“Been seeing her for a month and no one’s been arrested yet,” said Roy into his cell as he entered the elevator, shaking the early December snow from his jacket. “Well, considering the last two … no, I can’t go back to that restaurant.” He clicked the button and the elevator started to climb...

Scott Coon

The Emu and the Orange

Sue was about a hundred clicks from Ceduna and running late. Ahead, a fierce golden sun challenged the dark, brooding clouds which temporarily held hands above the horizon. Rain tomorrow? Probably not, she thought.
At thirty-five, with short blonde hair, steel grey eyes and a body honed by early morning jogs ...

Clayton Graham

Kiel-some robots go beyond programming

The XOC units were the finest droids in all the numerous system of Steh sector, ruled by the Weei-Ghan dynasty. They were literally indestructible and were sent to do all the life threatening jobs and missions humans and other races could not do, or were sent on long journeys into hyperspace ...

Keith Brandon

Room 614

The phone rang and I frowned. I was exhausted. It was New Year’s Day 1993. Actually, it was New Year’s Morning, since it was 2:45 a.m. I knew the time because it displayed on the wall-mounted black digital phone along with the room number, 614.

Bryan W. Conway

Mystery of the Geej

Ethan cursed the dense, suffocating Lao humidity for the hundredth time this week. His lightweight shirt and pants were soaked. Rivulets of water ran down his forehead, stinging his eyes, then cascaded down his camouflaged, deeply tanned face. The fish-smelling rain that had pummeled him and Vang Lou Chang for over an hour had finally quit thirty minutes ago. But the ever-present humidity was unrelenting.

Michael Jack Webb

Chapter One of Crystal's House of Queers

Chapter One
 
Crystal lies naked on her back, watching Haley remove three wet fingers from between her plump lips then slowly insert them into Crystal’s mouth.
“Get them wet. Very wet,” Haley purrs as her green eyes fix on Crystal’s browns. Haley lies against Crystal’s left side, propping her head on her right arm.
Crystal wiggles her tongue around each digit while sucking breath in through her nose.

Brooke Skipstone

A Nose for Murder

Francine Parker had been featured in the newspaper more times than she cared to remember. At least once a year, sometimes twice, a reporter sidled up to her counter for yet another story on The Colonnade, a popular home-cooking café where she’d worked since the late ‘70s...

Lynda McDaniel

Louanna's Letters

The tulips were delivered to Miss Izzy’s doorstep once a week without
fail, all wrapped in cellophane and tied with a bow. I looked for them
every Tuesday morning when I walked Puppy to the park.

Selina Stambi

The Window and the Woman

“I thought you’d say that!” The woman screamed. She tossed her napkin down and strode away from the table, a vision of disenchantment.
John stared at the window. The light struck it at just an oblique enough angle to render it a capable mirror. It was perfect for watching the patrons of La’Shae...

Jeffrey Hough

Yellow

Ed’s favorite color was yellow. Always was, but wow there was a lot of yellow at this funeral for his mother-in-law. Gladioli, lilies, and chrysanthemums. Either everyone had intentionally chosen yellow flowers, or the florists in this community had a limited selection. Probably the latter.

J. L. Greger

I Had No One To Tell

My name is Deanna Grace and I'm from the small town called Century, FL. My Mom and Dad got married when I was 5 years old and we moved to Brewton Al.

Sadiyyah

Stripped Bare

“Sarge” Nobby Clark and his wife Beryl slowly made their way to the seating outside the supermarket. Beryl rolled slightly on her dicky knee and Nobby’s leathery face held a permanent half grimace of pain as he dragged their faded old shopping cart, with one crooked wheel, behind him.

Mark Rutherford

Makeni Homeboys

Makeni. To this day I have no idea what it means or where it got it’s name from but Makeni was where I grew up. Wikipedia states “The origins of the name Makeni are unclear. However the Livingstone Mail reported that in 1914 Major Boyd Cunningham had a farm called Makeni in Lusaka. A folk etymology has been suggested that the name derives from a Scottish name, McKenny.”

K.A. Mulenga

Morton Hall

There was a certain foreboding that evening, a foretokening chill to the autumn wind which streamed across the empty plains. A large tree loomed over me, its golden leaves waxed and faded away with nothing but a few droplets of rain weighing it down. There was a stillness to the air to, a quiet desolation which struck me to the core.

Peter Gray

The Island of Lost Cause Minstrels

“Thanks for getting us thrown out of New Orleans,” Joy’s eyes flamed at her brother Ed as he drove through the now-quiet streets of the French Quarter. “You really did give us a vacation to remember.”

Fran Driscoll

Snowshoes

To penetrate the eyes staring back at me in the mirror is to see an age progression from childhood through middle age. The faces from past lives, or the genetic memories from those who contributed to my DNA, also linger behind the reflection.

William Graney

There Was Nothing I Could Do

People don’t understand.
It’s stupid to judge someone on their looks.
Just because I’m pretty and have blonde hair doesn’t mean I’m dumb. I make no apology for taking care of myself. I use creams to keep my skin in good condition and choose my make-up to give as flattering a result as possible.

Alex Craigie

The Story

The pages of Edgar Alfred Pennyworth’s favorite books possessed more girth than the bulwarks of my furnished flat. Oh, dear me, I’m not complaining. One can’t expect much more at $11 per week for rent.
Edgar’s laughter waltzed down the hall.

Shem Shmentov

Good Old Mavis

Mavis breathed in the smell of daffodils from the planters, then pressed the button on the Sunshine Nursing Home's intercom.
"Mavis Bradley to see Gloria Tomes," she said into the metal box. A buzz, a click, and the door opened.
"Good Morning, Mrs. Bradley." Susan's bright welcome sounded above the piped music. "You know the routine."
Mavis pushed her handbag up her arm and signed the official record of her visit.

CB Lyall

Queen of the Seep Ditch

Waking up at Granny's house, I hurry into the antiquated kitchen for a breakfast of
 
thick-slab bacon and a Dr. Pepper. Our first job today is making noodles, squishing
 
and blending the flour and egg yolks with gooey fingers, before rolling them out,
 
paper-thin, to dry.

Vali Benson

The Confession

The call I had been dreading for decades finally came at 3:45 in the afternoon. The butler messaged me, saying that our master wanted me to come up to the penthouse and say goodbye. Grabbing my medical bag — more from habit than any hope my friend would let me use my skills to save his life, I took the private elevator up some 90 floors. I stepped out into the palatial home of Jacob Anderson, one of the most powerful oligarchs who ruled the Solar System and the greatest philanthropist humanity had ever known. The view out the floor-to-ceiling windows was breath-taking, although — except for the other Oligarchs’ sky towers — much of Central City was hidden beneath a broken layer of clouds.

Donald Firesmith

The Day the Elves Stole My Wife

“You’re just getting to be a lazy bum!” expressed my wife.
I never did like weeding the garden, but it was a job that needed to be done and I did it. Today wasn’t just a rebellion, you see, there were elves in the garden. My wife didn’t believe me.
“When haven’t I always done the weeding?” I protested. “But I’d rather not do it while there are elves down there.”

Stephen E. J. Tomporowski

Keeping Kenzie

Damn her nerves. Why did she have to be so shy? Rick – who stood a few feet away from her – kissed more than once. He touched her there and she’d stroked him until he’d pulled her hand away.undefined
He stood talking to Mrs. Kaye, the lady she worked with in the jewelry kiosk at the mall, the only summer job she could find.
He lived on the same street that Mrs. Kaye did.
Did he know she worked there, too?

Tara Eldana

Stripped Bare - A Pandemic Story

“Sarge” Nobby Clark and his wife Beryl slowly made their way to the seating outside the supermarket. Beryl rolled slightly on her dicky knee and Nobby’s leathery face held a permanent half grimace of pain as he dragged their faded old shopping cart, with one crooked wheel, behind him. It had become their daily ritual to check out the shelves of the store for life’s essentials.

Mark Rutherford