The succubus child was not supposed to fall in love.
“Demon, please, a child for my wife,” the desperate man pleaded.
The succubus child was not supposed to fall in love.
“I have tried and tried and tried, Demon, but I cannot rear a child. Please, for her. She deserves this happiness.”
The succubus child was not supposed to fall in love.
Continue reading “Love by Djordje Negovanovic”
Whenever the mystery of Colonel Corpse’s murder had been solved, a process happened which Bishop Aubergine could not fathom, and Colonel Corpse was resurrected and murdered yet again.
Continue reading “Murder Most Foul by Matt Cunningham”
Rattling feet and active tongues met the clang and squeal of the drums and choir. The language spoken by the congregation was foreign to me, just a boy then: it sounded like some alien dialect from Star Wars. I noticed the power that language held over the horde of rambling adults. The mushed up words spilled out, filling the sanctuary with a sacred tongue from a cavern of the mind I hated to have witnessed.
Continue reading “Ceremony by Caleb Coomer”
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Influence
When in a certain mood my mother could kill a good vibe with a comment more quickly than the Andromeda strain can wipe out a small town in the desert. There would be a get together of family and friends, and everyone would be chatting and having a nice time and she would inevitably have to say something like:
“It’s sad to think we will all be as dead as people in old movies someday.” Then she’d cast an innocent glance around the room (which included children) then add “Ever wonder who’ll kick first?”
Continue reading “Week 446: Influences; Site Influencers and Under the Influence”
Kiin, kiin, kiin.
You wake up at 5:00am. There is a swarm of flies finding light outside the window. Your two toddlers are sound asleep, swaddled in patched up clothes. They yawn unexcitedly. The dog beneath the table drools. Before it is a plate of mashed kenkey.
Continue reading “Kiin Kiin Kiin by David Agyei-Yeboah.”
Seventeen-year-old Jackson hunched up tight against the school wall smoking and laughing to himself, waiting for the bus and coming out of a daydream about performing at Carnegie Hall. He noticed how brightly the dandelions bloomed on the sides of the culvert; the birch leaves fluttered above them. He stubbed out his cancer stick. His friend Robert P. hustled up, hauling a guitar stained dark brown with linseed oil.
Continue reading “Don’t Mess with Me by Harrison Kim”
Stephens Island, New Zealand, January 1894
A small brown bird, mouse-like in size and attitude, tucks under clumps of wind grass, scrapes delicate ruts in moist ground. Nearby ocean spray cloaks shore rocks and humpback blows punctuate the sea surface.
A foreign sound. The bird stops, more curious than afraid, peers past grass blades. On a rocky clearing, motion. An upright creature on sturdy legs, with arms capable of lifting and pulling and throwing. More than a dozen of these creatures, different sizes, dispersing into recently erected wooden structures beneath a tall column, cloud-white, capped with a small sun that flares out into the grey mist.
Continue reading “The Sound That Nothing Makes by Alain Kerfs”
The first wrestling promoter worth a damn I worked for once told me victory happens when ten thousand hours of practice meets a moment of opportunity. Mine came at a Halloween event in 1979 when Ray Race put me over for my first singles title. Everyone pays their dues, and then everyone pays its forward. I stood behind twenty five feet of velvet curtain with the top strap Global Championship Wrestling had to offer and ran through the major moments of my forthcoming Triple Threat match we’d mapped out.
Continue reading “Fake by David Louden”
“How long has he been up there?”
The neighbour shook his head. The man had been there last night when he was taking the bins out. It had been a clear night and he’d assumed the man was stargazing, telescope out of sight.
Continue reading “Neighbours by Chloe McCormack”
literally stories 