Tag: Short

Pinky By Sean Nishi

Call me Pinky. My pregnant wife slipped on some afterbirth and fell down the stairs of our Napa Valley bungalow. When she gave birth to our son, William Fontaine III, he had a dent the shape of Mississippi in his forehead. That’s where his grand-pappy, his namesake, is from. We considered it a miracle. What’s

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My Spooky Brain by Chris Farrington

Crammed in a closet with barely space to breathe, never mind move, I’ve managed to manoeuvre myself into the most uncomfortable of positions. My knees are near enough kissing my chin, and with each passing second, the flimsy shelf I’m leaning on is seemingly another step closer to collapse. Nevertheless, I’m stuck in this shoebox

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Jackpot By Bobby Wilson

Before I went downstairs to the casino I gave Bill a call because I didn’t want to have to check in all night long. Not that I had to check in, Bill wasn’t that kind of guy, but old habits die hard. -Be safe, he said. I promised I would be safe…if I felt like

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Sunk Cost By Amy Slack

The road is a long, straight, certain thing, the sort a teacher might claim was built by Roman soldiers in some benevolent act of imperial charity. One side is lined with takeaways; the other, B&Bs. At the end of the road is the sea. It reflects the clouds with a blank indifference, ignoring me. The

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Roscoe And The Dead Thing By Michael Conley

Roscoe was carrying the dead thing.  The dead thing was in his possession now, and that was all that mattered.  The dogs were following still, but at a wary distance. He’d have felt better if he’d had some sausages to throw them, but he could hardly blame himself for that.  None of this had been

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A Highland Reunion By David Micklem

The road up to Gavin’s house winds through pine forest so deep I squint to make out the way after the brightness of the drive along the lochside.  Tarmac becomes a gravel track, crosses a cattle grid and zigzags up through the trees before opening out onto the moor. Huddled beneath a stand of oak,

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Stationery Lift By Liz Churchill

I’m still rubbing sanitiser on my hands when he catches me from behind. Deep bass notes, arcing vowels, unhurried syllables. He could narrate a mindfulness app with that voice, like a Brummie David Attenborough – though less of a relic. I’ve debated telling him this but decided against. Probably not the best thing to tell

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Happy Together By Kate O’Grady

Our father was a big-wig at the Oregon Fish Commission, and the freezer in our spacious mock Tudor home in Clackamas was always chock full with wild salmon and bull trout. My twin brother Jake and I gorged on the rich bouillabaisse and fricassee dishes that our mother served up each evening at exactly seven

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Another day on the road from home to who knows where – three months into their journey by Amanda Saint

The copper bell is the only non-essential thing Nora’s kept from before. She’s not sure why. It has no use in this new world. Food, water, somewhere safe, and hopefully dry, to sleep and firewood are all they need now. But oh so hard to come by. Tonight’s dinner – puffball mushrooms with wild garlic

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Women By William Macbeth

“I don’t understand why anyone would want to get married these days,” says Jean. “I think it’s nice,” says Marie, a friend. “What, taking some bloke’s name? You think that’s ‘nice’? Giving up the name you were born with and taking some bloke’s name? What’s nice about that? It’s like fucking slavery or something. It’s

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