Latest News, Short Fiction

Week 493 – If You’re Going To Knock It Down!!!! Mean Machine!!!! And A Nod To You Joe!!!!!

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I hope you all have been enjoying the Olympics. I love most of the sports and enjoy watching those that I don’t even understand. (Yachting for example – Who the fuck can see who is winning??

Sorry to all the folks who adore Surfing but unless there is a circling shark, it’s shit to watch!)

And before any sensitive tells me that their gran was eaten by a shark – I apologise. (Bet the shark got the shits!!!)

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All Stories, General Fiction

A Nice Day by Gene Bray

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Red Hook Brooklyn 10am. I wake up and look out my 11th floor window.

 Oh my God. The sky.  I’m blasted. I’m overwhelmed. By blue. But not just any blue. Royal Blue. Stunning Royal Blue from horizon to horizon. It’s usually a dirty, featureless gray  

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All Stories, General Fiction

What’s Left by Todd Dodson

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He settled the last of the old Amazon boxes in the bed of the pickup, an intractable, unstrung guitar neck poking out from the middle, with the faded moon looming eerie in the midday sky like the cover of some science fiction paperback. He threw a blue tarp over the mess, then took his time stitching a length of twine through the grommets, around the cleats, a clever hitch knot at the end, even opening the driver’s side door before finally, finally turning to me standing in the hot pea gravel, glass of ice tea melting in my hand, before saying, “Well, that’s it.”      

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All Stories, General Fiction

The Yellowing Yellow Room by Colby Loucks

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I am sitting in a windowless room in Africa’s Congo Basin wishing I had taken French instead of Latin in high school. My mom forced me to take Latin, saying it would help me become a doctor. What a load of crap! Or as they say in Latin “Quid onus crap!” Also, I am not a doctor but a middling middle-aged ecologist who is at this very moment sweating through my t-shirt, sharing a room not much bigger than gas station bathroom with one Congolese priest and one Spanish priest. They are not praying but discussing bribery. I know this because I did end up taking four semesters of Spanish in college, and heard the Spanish priest say “Quanto dinero?” The Congolese priest whispered back to him in French with something that sounded like “Quanto dinero?” But it is definitely French. I know this because his earnest whispers are as soft as crushed velvet, the syllables gently rolling over each other. No other language but French does this.

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All Stories, General Fiction

AI Husband by Claire Massey

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Madeline tells her virtual assistant to play the invitation again. Did she really hear the antiquated phrase, in-person? Pandora says, “repeating anniversary party details from George and Lydia” and yep, there’s cousin George’s avatar, declaring he’s 40 years married in 2040 (!) and guests can attend the celebration by holographic teleportation or in-person.

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All Stories, Editor Picks, Short Fiction

Week 492: Parental Wisdom; August Reading; Food and Fodder

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Parental Guidance

There’s one bit of advice that my late father gave me when I was too young to scrutinize advice, yet it remains something I’ve neither forgotten nor defied: “Don’t eat canned stewed tomatoes.”

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All Stories, General Fiction, Romance

We Were Everything and Nothing by Lydia Baham

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It was the second day of our trip to Madrid. We were in a restaurant not far from Plaza Mayor with the massive stone walls whispering the secrets they knew, trying to eavesdrop on ours. We had almost finished the bottle of Cava, I was a little dizzy from the alcohol and too high on you, my friend. You watched me with those magnet eyes of yours, a wicked smile played on your lips, and I was asking myself if you’re even real.

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