Category: Fiction

Triptych: The Dreamer by E. A. Fowler

1. In a small room, high above a street in Los Angeles, a man lies sleeping beneath an open window. The blinds are closed, rattling softly in the breeze, but daggers of sunlight pierce the slats and blaze across the thin, greying counterpane that rises and falls with each breath. Behind closed lids, the sleeper’s

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Concussion Party by Nick Story

The banner between the trees read: “Welcome Home, Logan!” On the table below the banner there was a spread of yellow cake, hamburger buns, chips, ketchup and mustard, a plate of grilled meats, and fizzy red punch in a plastic bowl. In sweaters and jeans, Logan, Becky, and Sharise assembled their meals. Leaves were falling

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Reunion by Liz Milne

My daughter will be joining me soon, and while part of me loves that idea, it fills me with sadness too. It will mean the end of an era, the final disintegration of our family which was small enough to start with. I sit with my husband and my daughter sometimes. I sit with them

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A Narrow Gate by Sam Gridley

“We shall not,” Reverend Morrison whacked the pulpit, “stroll at our ease into the Kingdom of Heaven. For the Lord tells us, ‘Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life.’” In the front pew Michelle suppressed a shiver, conscious of being observed from the rows behind. To her right her

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After Care by Helen Beer

“Try to relax,” the doctor said, her voice pragmatic and assured, issuing the impossible command. “You’re doing fine, Lenora,” the nurse added, her voice soothing and empathetic, issuing the white lie. The strangers who comforted Lenora were completely anonymous; their names had not been revealed to her for their own protection, even though April knew

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Uncanny by Amanda Huggins

The new waitress says he reminds her of someone. She presses a finger to her lips, frowning slightly as she looks him up and down, then shakes her head. ‘I can’t think who it is. The image is blurred, a little fuzzy around the edges. If I could sharpen you up, pull you into focus,

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The Perfect Bottle by Timothy Ryan

To the Satellite Beach I keep the pieces on my desk, fitting them together as an opaque, incomplete lens.  Collecting them from one and another shore and soul across the world they merge into a single story like a flawed memory.  I like flawed memories because they can be unintentionally hilarious, often misdirected, sometimes tragic

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ANNIHILATION RADIATION: Short Story Competition

“I’m recording this, because this could be the last thing I’ll ever say. The city I once knew as home is teetering on the edge of radioactive oblivion. A 300,000 thousand degree baptism by nuclear fire. I’m not sorry. We had it coming.” – John Carpenter (Narration) – GUNSHIP  – Tech Noir  Greetings, vault dwellers!

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Asunder by Ellen Akerman

This story must be told, that of a young girl, not taken but ripped from her mother’s arms. A mother following instinct to protect her daughter, to find safety, a place without fear of death. This mother, witness to murder, inside a spring day while the birds sang of new hungry babies, opening wide beaks

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An instrument displayed at Whitechapel station by Niall Keegan

There is an old piano with chipped keys and fine lines on display inside Whitechapel station. There is an official bucket tethered with a silver chain and a not-unworthy cause interleaved between two sheets of plastic. For some, a chance to showcase. Performances erupt intermittently, often during the calmer moments between rush hours. Songs are

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