Category: All Stories

All Stories, General Fiction

The Evening of the Black Dog Lavinia Andrei Jennings

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The dog scrutinized her through the glass door of the high-rise building. His wet pitch black coat shone smooth as glaze over metal, and for an instant she perceived him as a bad omen, a gigantic raven, haunting her. And yet, his gaze was benign, his attitude tentative and curious at the same time. Flakes of snow settled continually on his muzzle and shoulders, shriveling and melting, like grains of sand measuring his time out in the cold.  Irene, still and uncertain, eyes squinting from the sunset glow, met his gaze, then promptly switched her attention to her own reflection in the door, her curly hair in disarray, her arms hanging pointlessly along her body. She had nearly tripped over the dog who approached her unexpectedly as she arrived home earlier, lost in her usual musings. Their eyes locked for a moment, in a question and answer one-two. She moved away, though, determined to ignore him.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Loving You by Simon Ashton

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They hadn’t touched her daughter, the crowd outside. They had wept at her in holy resignation and punched fists of beads at the air, hostile with certainty, but Bec had drawn herself wider and taller, a linen sailcloth harnessing the crackle of hostile air, propelling them forwards to the safety of the car.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Things You Shouldn’t Say to Your Mother with Dementia by Maggie Nerz Iribarne

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“I’ve just told you that.”

When things became worse, I brought my mother to our abandoned-since-Dad-died beach house for the summer. A sabbatical and a newly west coasted daughter freed me to lug Mom like a bag of silent, bewildered groceries into the passenger’s seat of my car. We sped along the highway from the city to the coast, chasing the rickety car of Mom’s memory, lumbering just ahead. I savored the hopeful sensation of control and the encroaching smell of sulfury sea air.

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All Stories, Editor Picks, Short Fiction

Week 456: Black and Blue Christmas

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It was Thanksgiving in the United States this week. It used to be a major holiday until the monstrosity called Black Friday relegated Thanksgiving to the holiday second division.

Growing up, I recall the day after Thanksgiving being a busy shopping day, but it certainly was not more important than the holiday nor did anyone camp out in front of Kmart awaiting the doors to open at hell o’clock the next morning. The only downside of the holiday was spending time with relatives that you did your best to avoid all the other days of the year–but our friend alcohol usually solved that, one way or another.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Hold Your Breath by Sarah Macallister

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Underwater light flickers and dapples the sea floor, glowing through seaweed drifting in the current. Miles of sand undulate into shadow. The goggles bite hard into Colin’s cheekbones and behind his ears, but they do not leak. Colin swims deeper, releasing bubbles as he descends.

His chest tightens but the sand is close now. He stretches his fingers out.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Swerve by Tamara Barrett

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Q never swerved to avoid a beast on the road – dead or alive. He would drive through it with an iron fist, as if fur and soft tissue were nothing. A mental illustration of focus, a kind of road karate like the art of board breaking. Always direct your power beyond the wood stack. A fox, a kangaroo – he had a bull bar and was not squeamish about death – an emu once near Broken Hill, had snapped a rabbit’s neck.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Seizure Fugue by Max Klement

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When my head hurts, the shiny brass kettledrums play late into the night.

At first, I tried not sleeping. One day without sleep left me feeling a little unsteady; after two days I was getting stupid. By the third day it got bad—“all of the above” as they say on multiple-choice tests with little black dots that have to stay in the circles and hurt my eyes—plus, I felt like my head was filled with Rice Krispies. After that it just felt like my brain was deep-fried.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Mummers by Cathy Browne

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Three mummers scurried down Halstead Lane. They huddled together, a mass of grey and brown rags, buckets hanging off their elbows and pockets bulging with brushes and cloths. Somewhere in the folds of their shapeless rags, each one had a tin cup half-filled with their earnings of the night. They moved with little stubborn stomps, their buckets and coins clinking with every step, determined to keep their footing on the ice-slicked pavement.

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All Stories, auld author

Auld Author – Meat by Joseph D’Lacey – by Hugh

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I’ve decided to do a few of these. Now if you think they will be deep and meaningful with an in-depth synopsis you are reading the wrong review.

I will try to take these another way – I want to go off the cuff, not look back at plot and technique but simply to tell you why these have stuck with me. I will give you as much info as I can about the book, but it will be at the best, a bit sketchy. Fuck, a few of these I’ve read over twenty years back! That’s the point!!

…It is why they have stuck with me that I want to explore. And if they tweak your interest – So be it.

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