Category: General Fiction

General Fiction, Short Fiction

Paperboat by Kenrick Pinto

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The last paper boat. At least Herman hoped it was, watching it float away. Transported by the Danube to a world far from his own. A world without weapons and bombs. Without destruction. Where dreams didn’t die, where they weren’t shattered. Where men lived. He watched as it carried a tale of love, of loss, of grief and of war. Is that why they call it the Black sea, he wondered. All emotions coalescing to form a black, murky mass. Was the sea black inside, hiding behind a shade of blue, flowing nonchalantly. Like the people around him, hiding their sadness behind a smile. It will all be alright, they said. To others, to themselves. That it was destiny. There was nothing they could do, and the world would return to normalcy. It had to. Someday.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Or I Could Be by CK Bern

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The manicurist left lye out among the pedicure chairs, struggling to maintain the salon to her standards, but the We’re Open sign was only half true and gone were the days her window said No Walk-Ins. After a customer burned skin off both feet, she kept things hygienic and let the overall harmony of the salon decay. One afternoon, the bamboo chimes stirred, announcing the arrival of three women. Breasts so large, the first woman was on the verge of tipping forward. A second woman lumbered under an oily mane. A third burbled, lips swollen and barely moving like two dowels in the teak plate of her face.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Punch drunk by Alex Sinclair

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Billy circles to the right, away from Blaine’s money shot.

The big right-hand snaps out like a snake and Billy slips it and it goes over his shoulder.

Billy digs a hook into Blaine’s side, trying to tag the floating rib and bust it.

Blaine winces and drops his hands, only slightly, to cover up.

Billy flicks out a jab. Once, twice, aiming for the nose.

Blaine’s head jerks back and sweat droplets spray off his head.

Billy’s dad always said the jab is as important to a boxer as a paintbrush is to an artist.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Sandalwood and Lobster by Andrew Campbell

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Do you like lobster? Hunter asked, and I said yes, because if I said anything else, I wouldn’t be perfect anymore.

The date is at seven, at the seafood place around the corner from my apartment. I ate there once with David, but he paid attention enough to realize that I didn’t like it. But Hunter doesn’t know, and my mouth is shut.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Full Throttle by Daniel McKay

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As the anticonvulsant, antidepressant, and anti-inflammatory cocktail hammered through my bloodstream, I felt my facial muscles gradually unstiffen from their disbelieving grimace.  Sleep, the voices around me said, at least for the first week or so.  It’s easier.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Top Secret by Tom Sheehan

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His name was Maxwell Max Dugan and this is his story, but only covers those disturbing and warful years between 1941 to 1947, just seven years chockfull of battles, combat, explosions, heroic people, deadly people on a world-wide rampage, and means of salvage, at least of the souls, if nothing else.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Brigadier Robert D’Alby by E. F. Hay – adult content

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(a sweaty tale of irresistible desire within remote salty environs)

Brigadier Robert D’Alby of those immaculate Glorious Roscommon’s was a fine figure of a man. As a Sandhurst officer cadet, it was crystal clear D’Alby was hewn from exactly the right stuff- possessing athleticism, but devoid of narcissism, & employing a military style of life, minus that all-too-familiar ‘boot-polish-up the-kilt’ mentality. Unerring devotion to discipline & Spartan indifference to discomfort made D’Alby a splendid soldier. Additionally, over time D’Alby’s ability to remain aloof- distanced from subordinates, enabled access to genuinely private thoughts beyond the appreciation of his rough & ready non-commissioned comrades. In fact, even fellow officers bored D’Alby: their drunken parties, latent homosexuality, imbecilic gambling, & tunnel vision interdicted any possible camaraderie. Yet, above all, he abhorred their collective disregard of cubic art. Still, such wilful blindness didn’t detract D’Alby from an admiration for their old-fashioned strength of character; nor could crude behavioural patterns, disseminated amongst his natural ruling-class, annul an esteem in which he held an intrinsic nationalistic existentialism pursued by élite English gentlemen.

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All Stories, General Fiction

The Purpose of Screaming by Harrison Kim

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“Quietness, at what cost?” Reid said as he swung in his hammock on Burnaby Mountain.   He pushed his legs over the edge of the canvas.  Then he put his legs back into the hammock.  He wanted to live in the wild, to make a new start away from the city noise. “I’ll call for that teaching position at Pinantan Narrows reservation,” he decided.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Keys in a Sewer by Dave Gregory

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The house keys fell from my pocket when I reached for my gloves. Attached to a silver ring, they clattered on the sewer grate, slipped through, and disappeared with a splash.

I cursed, threw my head back, and considered the enormity of the problem: it was the week between Christmas and New Year’s; my wife was at a yoga retreat with her sister, in upstate New York; my landlord was probably out of town; I had only loose change in my pocket; less than a quarter-charge on my phone; and my bladder was almost full.

After donning the gloves, I tried lifting the grate but it wouldn’t budge. Recovering the keys was unlikely, what I wanted was a hiding place from my shame.

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