All Stories, Science Fiction

Living La Vida Extraterrestrial by Douglas Hawley

I was chosen to write the history of the survivors of the destruction of earth that happened hundreds of years ago.  First, a few of us escaped by rocket to the planet of the Azari people for what seemed like three earth years based on the amount that we aged, but we may have been aging faster on a planet that does not match our biological cycles.  We can’t be certain.  Our atomic clock either broke or was sabotaged, so we could not judge the passage of time.  It didn’t help that Azari was illuminated somehow so it was never dark and the temperature was generated internally and remained consistent.  I might not have survived it if I didn’t have Sapphire Hendrix, the companion that I had met during the planning for escape from a doomed earth.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Humour, Short Fiction

My Hero by Hugh Cron – Adult Content

…I always wanted to have a shot at some of that inner dialogue speaking to me.

You know the shit that I’m talking about; the ‘Sex In The City’ voice, ‘True Romance’ and me hearing Alabama, or even I suppose, John-Boy from The ‘Waltons’. Any of them would have done and I wanted it to be from me for me.

It nearly happened. Once.

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All Stories, Science Fiction

Gleipnok Wakes by Steve Chatterton

Gleipnok wakes to discover that sometime while sleeping she transformed into a big, hairy Earthling. Legs already hanging from the end of her once roomy sleep pod, she wriggles out and reaches with her mind for her crewmates. Thinking things like, “Ah!” and “Help!” and “I’m a big, hairy Earthling! How did that happen?”

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All Stories, Literally Reruns, Writing

Literally Reruns – Falling Stars by James McEwan

A dusty and disheveled figure fought its way out of the basement – It was Leila Allison, back from another foraging expedition and this time clutched in her hot little hand was Falling Stars by James McEwan. This is what she said:

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All Stories, General Fiction, Humour

Wednesday Night Lights by Victor Floyd

Locate me in the back row of the church choir. It’s not difficult. Since it’s rehearsal night, there aren’t that many of us, and even fewer if you are looking at the men’s row. That’s me, younger than the geezer profundo over to my left. I’m young enough to be the the son of the forty-something tenor to my right. He sings ahead of the beat. I was pressured to join because I play the piano. Never let them know you can play the piano, by the way—free advice. This is one of my first (respectable) adult activities: the church choir.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Real Time by Katie Nickas

It occurred to me during our second date that Mike didn’t exist in real time.

When we first met, he was friendly—cruelty-free, like a human-sized rabbit. We ate at a sub shop, but first, he drove us backwards through the drive-thru of a shuttered restaurant. Big, white truck built for long hauls and first impressions. The perfect way to convey unspecified wants.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Miss Hart vs. The State by Carlie Morgan

This story deals with subjects that some readers may find upsetting.

 

1

I’m willing the old lady to take her seat already so the driver can go. Come on, come on, old girl, just pick a seat, any seat.

“Please take mine,” I say and stand. She smiles a paper-thin smile and eases herself onto the damp fabric. I hold onto a pole as the bus shudders onwards and we’re off again.  I take out my phone and replay the message. “Miss Hart, Tabitha is unwell again. Please come and pick her up as soon as possible.”

The way Tabby’s teacher lingers on the word “again” sends a painful throb to my stomach.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Fourth of July by Jacob Wrich

The Year You Were Born:

Your mother leaned forward in an aluminum lawn chair, scrunched her toes into the grass as the hot wind blew waves through her summer dress. She took another fleshy bite of watermelon and let her eyes slide closed as she savored the cool sweetness that filled her mouth. Your dad sat at the picnic table drinking a can of beer. He cupped a match from the breeze and lit a cigarette, and when your mother leaned forward, he stole a glimpse of her swollen breasts through his exhale.

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