All Stories, General Fiction

When Pain Grew a Beard by Rania Hellal

It’s been almost a month now since she first became acquainted with pain.

When she’d first glanced at him, half dazed under the strong pull of morphine, she knew straight away, even then, that she would never forget that face.

It was the face of a young man; Plump at the cheeks and lips and sharp at the jaws.  Round and soft where one would expect it to be, yet angular in all the right places.

A perfectly balanced face, she thought.

However, it was the eyes –or rather the lack of them- that grabbed her attention, almost by the throat.

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All Stories, Fantasy, General Fiction

Initiation by Fiver

Okay. I’m being serious now. Not that I haven’t been serious all along. But this I gotta say. If there’s anything…anything at all that’s important to me, it concerns this matter—this matter of the heart.

So…

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All Stories, Fantasy

Threshold by Amy Tryphena

Ghosts of the old world make their presence still known upon the moors. Known by their ancient stone walls and standing stones that still litter the landscape. The walkers, incongruous in their primary colours, garish symbols of the twenty first century.

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All Stories, Fantasy

Friendship by Brooklyn Peters

In a house in the woods, smoke churned and twined through the red bricks and out into the cold autumn air. A very pale girl sat on a sloping hill and watched the smoke huff and puff and disappear.

She remembers now. It does not always stay with her, like a word on the tip of your tongue. She can almost taste it but in the end it evades her, staying silent and unknowable. Today is different.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Sunday Whatever Horton Hears You by Rosemary Grant

This is another of those stories that we really wanted to publish but for various reasons it wasn’t a good fit for the usual posts. It was too good to pass over and so – we give you-

The paramedics found him in the snow at a bus stop, nursing what they called a Hennepin Avenue cocktail: grape juice and Listerine, mixed half-and-half. When he got to the emergency department, he did nothing but stand at the door of his room and stare through the glass. I walked in and introduced myself as his nursing assistant. He took off his Horton Hears A Who! t-shirt and said he was cold. I asked if he wanted a sandwich. He replied: “I never killed anyone.”

He stood in the corner of the room as I took his blood pressure and temperature. He didn’t look at me. His arms were circled with lines of round cigarette burns, spiraling down his palm and across his hands. Seven on each finger, four on each thumb.

When I left his room, the doctor was at the door talking to his nurse. He couldn’t stay, the doctor said. He was sober enough to walk and talk. He wasn’t suicidal or homicidal. He burned himself and drank—but that was how he lived—and maybe he acted psychotic, but only God could say for sure, and he didn’t meet criteria for admission, and anyway the hospital was full and the hospitalist would spit in his face if he asked for another bed.

“Should I call a cab?” said the nurse.

“He wants to walk home.”

He walked out into the snow as I was checking in a woman who had three children with the flu. I didn’t see him again.

Rosemary Grant

This story really impacted the team here and so we approached the author to suggest we link to a couple of sites that care for homeless and desperate people.

Madison Street Medicine brings together doctors and healthcare professionals to provide healthcare for homeless people in Madison, WI https://www.madisonstreetmedicine.org/about/.

and

MEDiC is a system of student-run free clinics affiliated with the University of Wisconsin that provides free care to underserved populations, primarily homeless people and undocumented immigrants https://www.med.wisc.edu/education/medic/.

Latest News, Short Fiction

Week 475 – Are You One? An Oscar Winner And Three Times Tainted.

Here we are at Week 475…Man that’s a big number…Not as big as three squillion but what can you do?

We receive so many stories that are cliches and stereotypical. Now these all have to be considered. There is a reason that they are cliches and stereotypical and that is that they are there. We’ve mentioned this many times before.

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All Stories, Horror

The Smiling Man at the Foot of My Bed by Noah Love

Tonight, there was a man in my room. He appeared when I turned out the lights. He wasn’t there before. And then he was. Crouched at the foot of my bed. Smiling

It’s just his white eyes. His dark pupils. Always looking at me. His teeth are glowing in a big smile as he stares at me. The whites of his eyes pronouncing the void of his pupils as their darkness looks unblinkingly at me. Ready to welcome me into bed.

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All Stories, General Fiction

The Trip by Dillon Cranston

I walk in; he’s watching Andrei Rublev walk through a shoddy doorway into the rain and disrobe.

“That’s an oldie,” I say. “Are you finding it any good?”

“Hmm,” My son hems. “It’s a lotta doorways. And he’s not very nuanced.” Done thinking, his face flashes. “Don’t spoil anything if you’ve seen it.” Still hung up on the Citizen Kane snafu…

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