Category: Short Fiction

All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

A Journey Begun In Lovers Meeting By JC Freeman

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Readers’ Advisory:

The Union of Pennames, Imaginary Friends and Fictional Characters (UPIFFC) has gone on strike. The reasons for this are unclear, but there’s a bunch of them outside my office window at this very moment alternately singing We Shall Overcome and making unflattering chants that feature my name and the accusation of miserly behavior on my part: “SAY HEY FREEMAN/HOW ABOUT A FEE MAN.” Don’t blame me, I didn’t say these were good chants.

Anyway, my penname, Ms. Leila Allison, seems to be the brains of the outfit, which is the only good news I have to report. Until she either gets bored with this rebellious activity, or the situation is in some other way resolved, I am forbidden to use the alias. Until that time, however, the show must go on.

Yours Truly,

JC Freeman

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All Stories, Latest News, Short Fiction

Week 109 – Addictions, Jaffa Cakes And a Shoe With No Name

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I’ve been wondering this week about how addictive writing is.

Addiction comes in many forms. I have one brother-in-law who is addicted to Dysons and the other is addicted to Jaffa Cakes. It’s hysterical when they get together as one pisses off the other as there are never any crumbs to hoover up.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Watan By Matthew Richardson

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Ah sir, you come upon me just as I am closing for the night. No no, it is not a problem to remain open whilst you make your purchase. Come in, I insist! I would not have you come out all this way on a night such as this and leave empty handed. Commutes are soulless enough endeavours, without being denied sustenance for the sake of an old man closing his establishment five minutes early.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Leaving for Viviers by Tom Sheehan

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The boy slipped from a hole in the remnants of a stone wall that marked one section of his grandfather’s farm, crawled behind a small tree, and stared down into the valley. At least a week before, shells from distant cannon and mortar had severed the wall in dozens of places, and a crater sat where the chicken house used to be. The pig pen, from the dead of winter, was a new abomination, with the small fence heaved asunder and unknown body parts strewn every which way.

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All Stories, Horror, Short Fiction

Hi, I’m Stacey by Nyx Bean

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“Hi, I’m Stacey!”

Oh wow, hiya! It’s been ages since I had somebody cool to talk to in person. You’re cool, right? Yeah, ‘course you are. New to the whole ‘undead’ gig, I take it? Just last month? Yeah, I’ve got a couple of years on you but it’s really not that much. I remember all the changes, it’s super crazy. I guess your master has you covered on the basics and the mouldy old traditions… uh huh, they totally leave out the important stuff! No worries, I’ll fill you in. Oh, and you can call me Stace for short. Anyway, where was I?

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Feather Cap By Paul Handley

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Ry thought his heart was shattered beyond repair.  Five weeks before he was leaving for college his girlfriend of fourteen months broke up with him to date some creep she met at an under ages show.  Ry’s uncle, Lee was visiting from Meridian, Louisiana.  Ry never understood why, but the family never went to visit him.

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Hello, Tom. by J. Edward Kruft

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We were all friends once. The three of us. Till she caught the two of us together. And when I mean to say together, I mean together not just in the biblical sense, which was true enough, but together as in in love. That was our big secret of course, and when Rose found out, understandably she wasn’t having any of it. I suspect she’d always known Tommy and I were jerking around together behind her back, which I don’t think she minded as Tom says she never was one for sex too much anyway and she probably figured us doing what we did took some of the pressure off her. Maybe. But the look she got when I finally had it out with her that day over at the park, on that little wooden bridge that crossed the little creek that more than half the year was dry, and I told her outright, and she pushed me off that bridge and said she’d see about that. That day, the creek wasn’t dry.

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All Stories, Horror, Short Fiction

The Veteran by Frederick K Foote

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He limps home from the war with a lopsided gait. A cripple with a dark green uniform hanging on his gaunt frame. They stare at the colorful ribbons and shiny dangling medals on his chest as they avoid his vacant, hollow eyes hidden in bony valleys of dark flesh.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Trump’s Bathroom by Adam Kluger

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McLeary was a New York City legend.

He was from an era that was long ago. Hard-drinking newsman. He covered the celebrity beat. His favorite film was Sweet Smell of Success with Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis.

McLeary had sold his soul for a glass of whiskey, Chanel #5 and a great pair of legs.

He had no regrets.

He knew the city and where the biggest names went to fuck each other when nobody was looking.

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