I must find The Machine. Darkness and prisons. The gargoyle of modern architecture turned inside out so that it enfolds me. I’m running through thickets of barbed wire, searching laser lights and glowing alarms like wolf eyes. Deeper and deeper winding down to some cosmic and infernal core. The belch of fumes from a gut.
Tag: Short story
Marion Murdock; World Champion boxer best remembered for fatally defeating an opponent in 1962,executed his drills in the Emile Griffith Memorial Gym, the heavens outside unleashing untold chaos and confusion in the busy streets of Brooklyn. The dense air clung to the ceiling of the gym, small glimmers of light spilling down in the sweltering
It’s funny how life works out. After four excruciating years in the small press scene, I was famous. A living, breathing overnight sensation. What’s even funnier is, I can’t attribute my writing to the fame. It was a complete denigration of the art form that awarded me the accolades. You’re shaking your head in disbelief,
HIM – I teeter at the edge of the pavement, my feet hovering over the cracked asphalt. A billowing mist has started rolling out through the street, packing the air with sticky moisture that films my arms and forehead. I drop my head back, searching the star–flecked sky for guidance. Tonight’s the night. There’s no
There were a lot of strange smells underneath the kitchen table. It was a lower register with its own set of rules. There were no faces, just feet and memories of angry voices. Robert’s nose was pressing against the surface of the floor, his torso prone, his arms stretched out in road-kill disarray. These visits
On Monday morning of his third workweek, small arms fire echoed throughout the office, a sharp popping, four quick blasts. George grabbed at thin air for his imaginary helmet and dropped behind the desk. The fluorescent lights hummed, telephones buzzed, computer keyboards continued clacking. He peered over the desktop. Outside his cubical, people walked along
Her Most of the world is perceived through a blurred lens. Fathers see their daughters through tinted glass, tattooed with a set of too-strict rules and inflated expectations, scratched enough to impair their vision. Between Dad’s high hopes and my sister’s PhD, me and my sketching hobby didn’t stand a chance. My evenings were a
Thank you to everyone who entered the STORGY Halloween Short Story Competition! It was a pleasure to read the diverse entries received, and we are honored to have experienced the thrill of reading such fine writing. Our editors have chosen the winning stories and over the course of the next week leading up to Halloween
Thank you to everyone who entered the STORGY Halloween Short Story Competition! It was a pleasure to read the diverse entries received, and we are honored to have experienced the thrill of reading such fine writing. Our editors have chosen the winning stories and over the course of the next week leading up to Halloween
Thank you to everyone who entered the STORGY Halloween Short Story Competition! It was a pleasure to read the diverse entries received, and we are honored to have experienced the thrill of reading such fine writing. Our editors have chosen the winning stories and over the course of the next week leading up to Halloween