The execution notice tacked to a wooden fencepost flapped in the wind as early morning light crept through the tree branches. Soraya tried not to slow her pace or even to glance at it. She already knew the details and her heart grieved for her only son. Pulling the faded cotton scarf tighter around her head, she walked in a hunched-over manner befitting her age, taking a circuitous path to make sure she was not being followed. The Janissaries had posted notices of the execution for today. They intended a very public message that rebellion and insurrection would not be tolerated. The Sultan of the Ottoman empire had spoken.
Continue reading “One Last Act by Gail Boling”Category: All Stories
The Incident with the Knife by Monika R Martyn
With time and reflection comes meaning, or so I’ve heard my therapist say many times. But what she doesn’t understand, even with all her schooling, is that despite all, a person can never go back in time to seize an opportunity, to rectify a wrong. At least within the luxury of these solid walls, and as is usual at this time of the night, when all is quiet, and neither breath nor movement intrudes, I can remember the facts as they suit me.
Continue reading “The Incident with the Knife by Monika R Martyn”Take the Giants in Five by John Giarratana
Rasputin was wasted again.
From a couch in the corner I rubbed my eyes and watched, amazed, as he lifted another bottle and polished it off . He finished with a growled belch and a rub of his stomach.
I downed a healthy hit from my own bottle . “ And good morning to you, Father Grigori.” With
Rasputin on one of his rages I felt It best to join him.
Continue reading “Take the Giants in Five by John Giarratana”Time Enough by Yash Seyedbagheri
The night of the infamous Thursday writing group, it was storming. Rain pounded the roof of Shanahan’s Bar, where we’d met the past three months. I was about to discuss a Richard Ford story. The jukebox was blasting Kenny Rogers, “Just Dropped In.” I glanced at my watch once, twice. The second hand clicked, clicks reverberating in my ears.
Continue reading “Time Enough by Yash Seyedbagheri”Self-Made Grocers by Susan DeFelice
I go to Rodney and Betty’s grocery only for the credit, because they sell mealy hamburger and I won’t touch the chicken anymore after the kids found feathers stuck in their drumsticks. It was at a barbeque, a really rare day when the sky is clear cornflower. It is unusual having a summer day when the air is light, light, without so much humidity trapped inside it you could suffocate.
Continue reading “Self-Made Grocers by Susan DeFelice”Literally Reruns – In The Hills of Okanagan by Harrison Kim
Leila has ferreted out another gem of a piece with wonderful atmosphere and this is what she said:
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – In The Hills of Okanagan by Harrison Kim”Sweet Dreams by Stephen Taylor
After dark, when the lights are no longer illuminating, the world sleeps – and the world dreams. Some are good dreams, ones that leave a smile on waking, others though, well they are the ones that leave an indelible mark on us all. These are ones that, within our subconscious, we do not remember or recall in the waking hours – but instead are assailed by them when we close our eyes and give ourselves up to sleep.
Continue reading “Sweet Dreams by Stephen Taylor”Step Right Up by David Lohrey
My cousin Boxie returned from Afghanistan to say that people turn into pink mist when they are blown to smithereens. Boxie spends his days shelving toilet paper at Costco, making $37,000 a year. He bought a house for $109,000 and leases a Chevy SUV. He has a daughter but his wife can no longer bear children. They live near Pearl, Mississippi. They keep a Boxer chained to the tree in their back yard. Boxie won’t let his wife cook instant rice. She shaves her pussy. Their daughter, Esther, wants to be a fireman. She wears a helmet to bed. Boxie, Tricia, and Esther belong to the Church of Proximate Causes, a sect based on the worship of reality, an internet group of survivalists who live somewhere in North Dakota. People say, they keep tons of deodorant in their basement along with cans of ravioli and Mississippi tamales.
Continue reading “Step Right Up by David Lohrey”Why Junie Jumped by Townsend Walker
I’ll tell you why she jumped. That bastard husband of hers couldn’t keep his pants zipped. She put up with it, for the kids. But then, he was the one who split. She and me were best friends in high school. I stayed here in Lynchburg, Central Virginia for college, now bookkeeper at the newspaper. Junie, she jumped at the chance to get out. That chance was a fast-talking UVA senior named John Miller, promised to take her to New York. He did, a dozen years and four kids later, she came back. Her family wasn’t a whole lot of help when she did. Junie told me, first words out of their mouths, Where are you going to live now? How are you going to support your children? I guess she shouldn’t have expected a cuddly reception, the way she ran off with John middle of senior year, her Ma still in the hospital. Irregardless, you’d think they’d care about their grand kids.
Continue reading “Why Junie Jumped by Townsend Walker”Last Night at the Aquarium by Leila Martin
Marin walks between the tanks, soft blue light pooling at her feet. Schools of fish flit back and forth to some unspoken rhythm. It’s early evening on a Wednesday, after the post-lunch rush. The aquarium is a welcome escape from the jostling and rudeness and ghastly chaos outside. Most families are probably having tea now or taking kids to clubs, or whatever it is families do.
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