All Stories, sunday whatever

Sunday Whatever – They Don’t Walk Alone by M.D. Smith IV

(Editor’s Note: This fine work by M.D. appears on a Sunday because it features what we refer to–often derisively–a Talking Untalkable. We seldom go for that sort of thing unless it is done with elan or in a well done fantasy. Both are the case here. Just a sweet little reminder from the Eds. that such items, unless loaded with charm, will be met with scorn, Bull Terriers and life insurance pitches–the Eds.)

I smelled the house before I ever saw it. Spirits inside—too many for comfort. Dust so thick it clung to the tongue. Beneath it all drifted the faint electric tang of souls stretched thin by years of being ignored, like old copper wire humming with frayed insulation.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Wolf. Normal by Lynne Curry

The laptop glows in the dim kitchen, blue light flattening the room, turning the window into a black square that gives nothing back.

I drag the computer closer, rubber feet rasping across the table like a warning.

Resurrection Pass Overnight: Intermediate hike: Good fitness required.

The photo at the top of the event listing shows a line of hikers crossing a narrow bridge, green valley opening beneath them, the future open wide.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Confessions of a Digital Nomad by Dan Shiffman

Inside Saint Anthony’s Basilica in Padua, he turned to his wife and whispered that he had a “confession to make,” darting three steps toward a dark, vacant box.

“You got me,” she whispered back. She still liked his jokes, even after six years together, three as digital nomads. Pointing to her fitness tracker watch, she reminded him that they each had Zoom meetings starting in thirty minutes.

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All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller

The Stringer by Christopher Ananias

A small dark-haired boy was walking in the fog like a phantom. Lenny Coins thought about his father. How could his father do such a thing—things? But the balloons. What about those?

At the bus stop, Tom waited for Lenny and offered him a Marlboro cigarette. Like he did every morning.

“I’m only eleven. I don’t smoke, Tom.” This was in the eighties when the Marlboro Man rode the range, instead of a hospital bed. Smoking was cool, and serial killers were coming on strong. 

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All Stories, Fantasy, General Fiction

The Scent of Eternity by Susmita Mukherjee

In the summer of 1997, when most men of his age were discovering the quiet dignity of cholesterol, Gopal Banerjee decided to make a perfume that would outlive death itself. Not metaphorically, he meant it quite literally. “Eternity,” he called it, though Calvin Klein had already used the name. Gopal didn’t mind; he believed trademarks were for those who lacked vision.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Beside the Dying Ash Tree by Michael Bloor

Andy put down the phone on his sister, though she was still sobbing intermittently. They’d already been talking for half an hour; he realised that there was no more comfort he could offer, til he saw her tomorrow at the undertakers. And he needed a break to process her news of their father’s death. So, booted and rain-proofed, he headed out the door for a familiar walk beside the river.

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