Category: Fiction

Happysad By Philip Charter

Dying was the easy part. When my children moved to Amsterdam, and later, when my husband departed this world, I endured difficult times. But hardest of all was the day I accepted the only way to escape my agony was to leave my body behind. With each passing year, I lost friends and family to

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The Caterpillar Star By Billy Brooks

Now and then, when the moon flaunts a particularly peculiar hue, one is overcome with an insatiable yearning to fall backwards. The first port of call is more often than not the scrapbook. But, typically, upon looking at the postcards within, memories fade into milky incandescence. Some girls will then turn to systematic meditation, sitting

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Stones By Jeffrey Ihlenfeldt

Carl figured there just weren’t enough adjoining plots in Our Lady of Sacred Light’s cemetery to accommodate the family in full—the dead and the would-be dead.  So, they were split up—father and mother in one space, plots for Carl and Nate in another.  Carl’s father was the first to go, and he was gone for

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The Loss Adjuster By Ola Mustapha

Peter’s fingers brush Caitlin’s as he takes the pamphlet from her hand. He nearly says, ‘Jesus Christ, your hands are freezing,’ but stops himself. It’s overfamiliar, when they’ve just met. ‘“Creeping nothingness”,’ says Caitlin. ‘That’s how you described it on the contact form, right?’ ‘Right,’ says Peter, pretending to read the testimonials. ‘Thanks.’ His thumb

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An Accident By Chris Barker

This was the bed in which Emma had slept. This was the story book that Emma had loved. And this was the chair beside the bed where Sally had sat and read the book aloud. The bed remained. The chair endured. But Emma was not in her bed and Sally was not reading her a

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The Engineer By Sam Roberts

I sit with a book in Arlington Square. I am not alone. Benches around me thrive with people reading, scrolling through their phones. It’s the kind of square where locals or those who walk find themselves when the weather is bright. A place for people with time to kill to kill such time without being

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The Making of a Millionaire By Fred Miller

The few who knew him well referred to him as Fred Milktoast.  A quiet, precise little man, Fred Milligan knew his business and no one in the Office of City Budget & Finance could attest to a single numerical error on his part over the past forty years. Numbers were his business. Married to simple,

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Transference By David Monaghan

In the discordant days of my youth, there is no one I remember more fondly than my uncle, my namesake. An infrequent guest to our family home in the early nineties, he’d fly over from London and spend a fortnight on our front room couch. My mother and my grandmother would busy themselves in the

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The Yellow Circle By Sam Szanto

I introduced Anthony to Eau Sauvage on his birthday. Wearing it would perfect him; make him elegant, smooth his edges. He could wear it with a suit. In my dreams, it would make him speak with a French accent. On the day, I took Anthony for dinner at Le Salon Privè. He suggested a drink

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Buzzkill By George Nicolaides

The Underworld “Freedom has a price.” That’s what my old man used to tell me whenever I didn’t want to go to the mines. He’d say, “son, if you’re ever going to live the life you want, you better be willing to pay the piper.” I was a kid, of course. Try teaching a 10-year-old

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