All Stories, Editor Picks, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Week 484: Omens and Owomens of the Superstitious World; A Week of Good Works; The Latest Ten on the Unsteady Jukebox (Part Three)

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Every night I sit here and bring submissions aboard. Although necessary and the soul of this undertaking, the “hi-how-are-ya” task gets redundant after a while, especially when there are twenty or so waiting. All that politeness and language watching is alien to my being and sometimes I will send a unique reply that either proves that I am not an AI, or if I were one that maybe a refund should be asked for from the Robot Store.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Scarf in the Dark by Crockett Doob

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My doorknob is low. The door is regular-sized, just upside down. But I know that can’t be true because the windows are up top. So my new theory has been that the door was sawed off, like a shotgun. The point is my doorknob is lower than most and is demonstrative of what’s inside: a very small apartment. Or, as I like to call it, “My hallway by the sea.” Because I live in a beach town.

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Fantasy, Humour, Short Fiction

Fairytale of Saragun Springs By Leila Allison

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When a species becomes extinct on Earth, a male and female of the kaput species are secretly stored in the fantasy multiverse, and live and multiply serenely until it is time for their Big Comeback. A sort of reversed, time-released Ark concept. Such is the case with two Passenger Pigeons named Kirsty and Shane. Both are well over a hundred years old because there’s no such thing as permanent death in fantasy realms. No one around here looks too hard into the Why and How of the thing because that might lead to belief in an “Ineffable Hand” and the inevitable buzz-killing, organized religion start-up, which no one wants in a realm where “Do What Thou Wilt” sums up one’s daily To Do list.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Lanternalia by Will Pinhey

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(Adult content refer to tags on the bottom of the page)

“You’re allergic,” Paulie tells me, running his finger around the braised red skin up my neck. “This happened before, and it’s worse this time.”

I turn back to the mirror, pulling my collar down further, straining to follow the inflamed trail that encircles my throat.

“Allergic to what?” I ask. “The ink?”

“Probably. It happens. More common with red than black, but still.”

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All Stories, General Fiction

Scholars of the Rocks by Yoon Chung

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Seo-woo lay flat on the floor of the shrine. He didn’t know what the g(x) was for equations f(x)=7-4x and f(g(x))=-1. He didn’t really want to because it was only fifteen minutes away from twelve. The four of them were supposed to arrive by noon. Pillowing his head on the book, he went to check their group chat for the fifth time in five minutes. It was quiet, which was good—no one was flaking. He was about to ask where they were staying again when he stopped himself. He’d already asked twice. They had chosen a cheap motel in the fishing village a few kilometers away from his place. They could have stayed at his temple, and he’d said as much, but they were determined not to bother his mom or the visitors.

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All Stories, Horror

The Monster And The Boy by Jaime Gill 

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Today, the monster steps into the world. Today, unhooded, he is seen.

He has done this for many years now, ever since he began to understand the possibilities Halloween offers him. For one night, the town is transformed, becomes a wonderland of the ghoulish and grotesque. A town made for him.

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All Stories, auld author

Auld Author – The Bad Place by Dean R Koontz- by Hugh Cron

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Okay, this is a weird one.
I have a story about a story that has fuck all to do with the story.
Please bear with me.
I’d like to write about Dean R Koontz’s ‘The Bad Place’.
As I have said before, with any of these that I do, I want to tell you more why the book has stayed with me rather than all the technical stuff. I have read six or so of Mr Koontz’s books and have enjoyed them. He does have a tendency to use
children and dogs within his plots. (The dogs, I can forgive – Kids not so much!)
But this book stands out due to it being so random. Here comes the story within a story, well sort of. Years back I read something that stated Bobby Darin had said that he could write anything. Someone, a DJ, I think gave him the line ‘Splish Splash, I was taking a bath’ and well, we know the rest. The reason that I mention this is, I reckon (Wrongly, I might add!!) that Mr Koontz was bet that he couldn’t get these topics into a story.
Telekinesis.
Inter-Planetary travel.
Vampirism.
And hermaphroditism.
By fuck he did!
I give you ‘The Bad Place.’
What a bonkers but entertaining book!!
And I don’t want to spoil anything but I do need to give you one line.
When the MC knows that the evil guy was coming for him, he tried to warn his pal. They were both in a unit for Special Needs. He told his friend, ‘There’s a bad thing coming’ and the wee soul replied, ‘What, poached eggs?’
May sound like fuck all but it makes me laugh every-time I think on it!!
Koontz isn’t my favourite horror writer, I prefer King, Laymon and to me, the best ever, the late great James Herbert. But for something so inventive that, in my mind, has a link to Bobby Darin, I would suggest that you have a look at this book. It is by far, the most inventive book that I have ever read.

Hugh Cron

Hugh

Latest News, Short Fiction

Week 483 – Also, A Chinese Meal, Get Your Babies Kissed And, Yes, I know It’s A Life-Choice.

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Here we are at Saturdays Posting number 483!

Something has came up this week that we want to share.

Before I start explaining, I must say that none of our writers have done anything wrong. We are in no way criticising.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Pink Tongue Flailing by Dana Rollins

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The chemistry of life in an era of endless miracles can be deceptively corrosive. This is not necessarily a bad thing. Like putting a hen’s egg in vinegar, it reveals the soft, internal wonders of the world—the things we’re so prone to build shells and containers around. Living in this era of endless miracles does, however, require special handling and some degree of caution. It often demands we abandon our reliance on the element of reason. Just as you should never mix vinegar with bleach, parsing miracles with reason and rationality can blister your lungs and blind you where you stand.

A magician taught me this.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Christmas Spirits by Anna Sahli

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You can believe in hauntings and not in ghosts. You shrink a bit when you enter your parents’ house for Christmas dinner and feel your powerless teenage self slip her tired arms around you and whisper a reminder that you’re not enough and somehow also too much. The rage that boils in your chest while you watch your father criticize your mom only finds a way to possess you at this table, in this room. The icy indifference that serves as your answers to all your mom’s questions is a ghost of the child you killed so you could survive long enough to become an adult.

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