All Stories, General Fiction, Horror

Bluestone by Martin Toman

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Near where I grew up there’s an abandoned quarry. For over a century bluestone was mined there. A deep open pit cut into the earth; steep walls of dark basalt criss-crossed by fine veins of quartz, caverns and sink holes and shelves of hard rock. Forty years ago the quarry stopped being profitable, so the mine owners turned off the pumps, removed the equipment that still worked, and let the ground water rise. Within a few months the quarry had turned into a lake. The rising tide submerged the void, and what was left behind was forgotten and drowned beneath the surface. The mining company planted some trees, put up a few picnic tables and walked away. Because of the height of the quarry walls on one side, the lake stood sheltered from the wind that whipped over the land, the skin of the water still and inviting, a dark blue pearl in an amphitheatre of stone.

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All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller, Horror, Short Fiction

Speak No Evil by Hugh Cron – Warning – Adult Content

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I was somewhere I had no business being, doing something that I shouldn’t, when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

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All Stories, Science Fiction, Short Fiction

La Vie en Rose by Barbara Diggs        

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“Where shall we go tonight?” Euan caresses my cheek with the back of his hand then brushes a stray braid away from my face. He is propped on his elbow next to me in the classic post-coital pose. I suppose he thinks he looks suave, but he doesn’t. He just reminds me of a kid trying to pull off a look that’s too big for him.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Her Father’s Ghost by Harrison Kim

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Kathy’s Dad passed away in his own house, his last rattling breaths aided by the morphine his daughter poured down his ancient mouth.  He lived alone in the old place for decades.  Germs terrified him.  He secured the windows with plastic.  The air inside turned stale and rancid.  He roamed the neighborhood at night, searching for cans and bottles.  He filled the house with old lawnmowers, pieces of scrap metal, newspapers piled to the ceiling.  Kathy inherited this rotting, junk filled dwelling.  Over the next year, she and her husband Neil renovated.  All the plumbing and electric wiring renewed, a new shingle roof, restored walls and floors.  The father’s piles of tools and newspapers, old tiles and bottles all recycled, usurped by Kathy’s stuffed toys and hangers full of vintage and antique clothing, her hundreds of art books and coffee table volumes about Hollywood stars, her garbage bags and boxes packed with blankets.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Stranger on the Gradient by Tom Sheehan

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Duncan Coffey felt a mild agitation. At first, he marked the subtle change as curiosity and then, making small measurements, corrected the assessment. A retired rewrite man for The Saxon Sentinel, he was frightfully aware that his capacity for surprise had long fled him. Odd moments told him he might have another person sharing his skin. This was one of those odd contemplations now working on him. His old fishing pal Ed LeBlanc used to say he had bitten off more than he could chew in this life, dwelling too often on little things, getting hung up in details, losing the big picture. “Duncan,” he offered a few times, “You could choke on a blade of grass and lose the whole thing.” He’d never explained what the whole thing was, but Coffey got the meaning.

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