Category: All Stories

All Stories, General Fiction

Those Snowy Mornings by Gil Hoy

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On those windswept weekday mornings, asphalt driveway crusted with snow, my father would get up early, put on his secondhand boots and an old coat, and exit through our front door into the blue hour to get the motor running. That fifteen-year-old station wagon would stall if not warmed up properly and might not start again. My father would sometimes have to push it down the hill to get the engine going, my younger brother Bill and I sitting quietly in the back seat, the smell of alcohol already on my father’s breath. 

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All Stories, General Fiction

The Syndicate by David Gershan

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I screwed all the lightbulbs back in. There was nothing in the sockets — no hidden bugs or cameras — but the feeling that I was being watched stayed with me. I had combed my place thoroughly that morning, and everything seemed to be in the right spot. I even threw away my cell, and all my electronics had been unplugged for days. But I knew they were somehow monitoring me, and I could have missed something. I went to the window and stared down onto the street, debating whether or not to leave my apartment and hide among the passersby, blend in.

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All Stories, Editor Picks, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Week 516: More Wonky and Wise Words

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Wonky Words

This week I again lost the battle of prescription v. “perscription.” It is a secret (well, not anymore) shame that inspires another look at certain words.

We all have our prejudices. These range from the meaningful to the downright insipid. Oddly, I find foolish prejudices more interesting and perhaps better telling of a person’s character.

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All Stories, Fantasy, General Fiction

The Charm by Ed N. White

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I loved the dark when I was a kid. That’s when I made up my best stories. I’d lay in bed with the kaleidoscopic images shooting through my brain like a meteor shower. My lips whispered the sounds of squealing tires, explosions, and airplanes, and sometimes fluttering with the staccato of a machine gun or the thwack of a wooden bat. These images were projected onto the inside of my eyelids like View-Master stereoscopic reels. I knocked out bad guys, hit home runs, captured criminals and won wars. I quickly advanced the scenes until the day after my tenth birthday. That’s when I saw my funeral, and it scared the hell out of me.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Parts of Speech by M.S. Nieson

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“Definition, please?”

She was dreaming again. Back on that same stage, the lights glaring in her eyes. The old elementary school auditorium with its thick crimson curtains parted. The microphone before her. Or sometimes she’d suddenly be in the gymnasium instead, the air rank with sweat and floor wax, the bleachers filled to capacity. It was never very clear. It was never . . . Wait, was it possible to smell in one’s dreams?

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All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller, General Fiction

Safe House by Alain Kerfs

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She holds up her hand to the bathroom window, feels cold air piercing. Early morning, still dark, the children asleep. She unspools a strip of foam, one-handed. At her feet, a diagram displayed on her mobile phone. Using a screwdriver, she pries off ragged remnants of the original weather-stripping. When she stretches to reach the top rail, her ribs ache.

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All Stories, Fantasy, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Dial 1 for Heaven by N J Delmas

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A red phone box stands alone in the middle of a field. Long grass and wildflowers surround it and little else. I make my way over; glad I’m wearing my wellies. I avoid the cow pats along the way and bat a couple of flies from my face.

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All Stories, General Fiction

All-Souls Hangout  by Tom Sheehan

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Curtis Glide, a student of people, satisfied with his findings of them as “passable'” Even as a millionaire, the gained acceptance came as encouraging to where the heroes show themselves in a hurry, lest they lose the gain.

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All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller

Andytown by David Louden

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Tonight, a strong man died in Belfast.

We had been on the site for three days.  Day one, up went the big tent.  The rigging, lights, safety nets and everything else that goes into putting on ‘the show’.  Day two, the dress rehearsal and an opportunity for those of us who needed it, to get clean.  A chance for those of us who needed it, to score.  Day three was opening night.  We were set up on the outskirts of Andersonstown.  Out of the way, on a plot of land that had been raised to the ground under the promise of social philanthropy only for the plans to cool and the memories to fade.  Now it’s little more than uneven concrete and free parking.  That’s how Mal got it for the week for so cheap.  It should have been a risk this far out, but people are the same everywhere.  You put enough curiosities in one place and they’ll come out of wherever they’re held up to look at them.

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