All Stories, General Fiction

Black Roses by Jeffrey Miller

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Glen sat in the corner booth of the Hollywood Diner and stared out one of the windows that separated the gray and red walls. He was delighted with the cool autumn day. It was one of those dark and gray days he loved being in the city despite the light drizzle that had been falling most of the morning. He held a cup of coffee to his lips and took pleasure in the richness and the warmth. On the cigarette-burned, graffiti-scarred table next to a half-eaten pastrami on rye his drawing pad was opened and waiting.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Senior Faculty Act on Roselle Bixby’s Tenure by Michael C. Keith

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In [Academia] the only homage they pay to virtue is hypocrisy.

–– Lord Byron

Full Professor Seymour Wilkes had planned to vote against the tenure of assistant professor Bixby in any case. While he admitted to himself that she was amply qualified for the distinction based on her excellent record of publications and teaching evaluations, he simply didn’t like her––mainly he disapproved of her appearance. To him, her short skirts and modestly tattooed forearm were the deal breakers. She just doesn’t look respectable. Looks too much like some of our students, and she acts like she prefers their company to ours.

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All Stories, General Fiction

The Marina by Bill Runyan

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Old Jefferson John Williams never really done nothin’ to deserve his story told, but Doc Elroy and the Preacher prodded me to write a little piece on him. I, myself, never done nothin’ to deserve to write about nobody, but Doc helped me with spelling and smoothed out some of the grammar a bit, without changing much of the words. Anyhow, what I wrote was printed up in some out-of-town paper and I have a copy of it. I still don’t understand why I was asked to write about Jeff John, or why it was printed. But I don’t care, ‘cause what I did was right.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Story of the Week

Chipped Trivets by Elizabeth Swann Lewis

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A greeter stood in the driveway wearing a black T-shirt, jeans, a set of Halloween cat ears atop his head, and had pulled a ladies negligee over his clothing. “A smile, that’s what I like to see. That’s why I do this. What a weirdo you say. But you’re smiling. Everything priced over a dollar today half off.”

Roy clutched the handles of the dog-eared backpack slung over his shoulder. “This is my father’s house.”

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All Stories, General Fiction

Drafted by Jaclyn Adomeit

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So here I sit, awaiting the judge’s decision. Draft dodging’s a major crime for anyone, but these days, the court seems hell-bent on punishing the women. Equality – right? It’s a real titty-twister that the sexual revolution came full circle. How can you argue?

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All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller, General Fiction, Story of the Week

Why Can’t She See The Difference by Hugh Cron – Adult Content

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He picked up the phone and dialled. He thought that there would be no answers, no advice, just someone to listen. He wasn’t sure if that was what he wanted.

“Samaritans, you are talking to Sarah….”

He took a breath. He lifted the whisky and sipped.

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All Stories, Fantasy, Humour

Apathetica by Nik Eveleigh

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“Thank you all for coming.”

Like I had a choice boss. You can fill the meeting invite up with all the pleasantries and corporate wank-speak you want, the real message says “Attend or be fired” so here I am.

“I’ve brought Dawkins in from marketing. He’s going to take us through our latest product launch. Real out-of-the-box thinking. Went live…this time last week eh Dawkins?”

The man in the pastel suit nods his sculpted head. He smiles a perfect, retina-scorching smile and fiddles with a laptop smaller than my phone.

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All Stories, Fantasy, Romance

Miguel, Lola and Ted – A Love Story by Jon Beight

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Miguel

Miguel sat on the shelf, admiring Lola the way he always did. He was in love from the moment he first laid eyes on her. Because he was a simple farmer, being in the presence of such beauty tied his tongue. Her face, Miguel would say to himself, must be what angels look like.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Running by Des Kelly

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Down the street the girl with bright hair ran. She’s running still, in her own way. Trying to avoid the thing she was made to do.

It’s been years, and nobody knows. Except for her.

Hair streaming in the sun.

It reminds her of blood. She’d like to wash it away.

Slowly scrub the stain.

‘Salt.’ Granny would insist. ‘Use salt.’

There’s salt in her tears. It’s not the same.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Under the Hunters Moon by JB Mulligan

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Yeah, it’s a new blind, built it last week. Saturday. Out all day. Phyl made me a sandwich for dinner. Ham and swiss. Said she was tired. She gets tired a lot lately.

Yeah. I heard you stopped by.

You could have kept that longer, if you needed it. But thanks for bringing it back.

Yeah, you take something of somebody’s, you return it the way it was when you took it. I know, sometimes you can’t, but still…

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