All Stories, General Fiction

Giving Thanks by Michael Ellman

Holidays were just days that Stan, our father, didn’t go to work. Ever since mom ran off with Uncle Rob, we didn’t do much celebrating. Fourth of July was dad drinking beer all day until my brother Corky and I took off his shoes, removed the lit cigarette dangling from his lower lip, extracted the Budweiser from his clenched fist and let him down easy on the sofa. He’d sleep the entire night, tossing and muttering a little, out of this world. Labor Day, Christmas, New Years, and well every holiday was pretty much the same. If Corky or I wanted a special dinner, we’d arrange to get invited somewhere.

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All Stories, General Fiction

The Naming of the Beasts by Matthew Roy Davey

Daniel sat clutching a coffee, staring into the blur of humanity.  He wasn’t far from his parents’ home and had no need of a rest, he was here to put off the meeting.

He had read somewhere that the guns of HMS Belfast were trained on Watford Gap. He had no idea why, perhaps it symbolised those attempting to escape the capital.  Still, he was not attempting an escape, he was heading towards his conflict, though that conflict was an escape of sorts.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

The Many Sad Fates of the Family Jones  by Lucy Caird

My Mum didn’t die a peaceful death. She got bitten on her toe by a rattlesnake whilst walking through the big park at night in her flip flops. She didn’t have the cell phone with her because my Dad had it that night. The poison got into her veins and stopped her heart. The next time when we saw her, she was all stiff and puffy. But her face was angry, most likely about the cell phone, I think. My Dad says she comes back in the form of a hurricane every few years or so and it’s our goddammed duty to weather the storm. He says they can call ‘em whatever they want – Irma, Katrina, Harvey, but they all Hurricane Josephine to him.

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All Stories, General Fiction

The Talk by Frederick K Foote

Eight a.m. in San Juan, California and it’s already eighty-two degrees on this June morning. I’m in running shorts and a tee-shirt as I step out my front door to pick up the paper.

The black and white patrol car prowls my street like a predator looking for its next meal. The mechanical beast creeps toward my house, signals a right turn, pulls into my driveway.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Compromising Phone Calls by Robert McGee

I try hard not to be too much of a cultural chauvinist, but some of the things Germans do are just wrong. Over the years I’ve learned to tolerate all manner of behaviors that made my younger self uncomfortable: people shaking hands in non-professional contexts, people not smiling when they say hello, people not knowing how to wait in lines, et cetera. I’ve even adopted a few behaviors that would strike many Americans as odd: I bag my own groceries, I don’t tip unless the person actually deserves it, and I can listen to political opponents without wanting them dead.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Giant Pandas by Rebecca McGraw Thaxton

The night I asked Lena to drop out of high school and marry me, it was freezing. We were waiting out a fall hailstorm, hunkered together under the awning of Kennywood Amusement Park’s Haunted House which was Lena’s favorite ride, even though she rode it with her eyes closed. “Oh, Lennerd,” she said, “Yes. Yes!” Afterwards, we rode the neck-whipping wooden coaster, Thunderbolt, and she was a good sport about it.

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