All Stories, General Fiction

Searching for Unicorns by Michael Bloor

Willie Ferguson lay staring at the wee cracks in his bedroom ceiling.  Like a lot of people, he hadn’t realised, til he stopped working, that he was missing something. It sure as hell wasn’t the job that he missed: he’d collected his pension with a sigh of relief. It wasn’t family either: his sister, Margaret, living behind a privet hedge down in England, was emphatically a distant relative, and should ever remain so. But Willie knew he really was missing something.

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Short Fiction

Ian by Hugh Cron

Ian was a stereotype.

I didn’t really know him but I knew his wife.

The reason I say ‘stereotype’ is that he was a raging alcoholic but unbelievably functional. The usual story here, he worked in the entertainment industry as a lighting man for a theatre and that was a life that had alcohol not just at the end of the day, also throughout. As long as he could shine a spotlight and in these more technical days, programme a system, no one gave a shit.

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All Stories, Short Fiction

Week 463 – Transparency, Blanketing Eradication And He Also Knocked It Off.

This is my first posting of the New Year and I hope that you all had a cracking time that you either can’t remember or won’t regret!

I should be happy and uplifted.

And I am in an inverted way due to some shite that we need to put up with. (It gave me this posting).

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All Stories, Horror

Watchtower by Rebecca Klassen

No one can understand why Elena stays, and neither can I. If it had been me, I’d have left; there are plenty of other Cornish seaside towns to live in. Actually, if I really had climbed those steps and seduced a sixteen-year-old like Elena did, I’d have jumped from the watchtower onto the rocks below. They were discovered in the act by the caretaker, Jim.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Doll Parts by Ximena Escobar

“I won’t talk about the past anymore,” she said. “I’m only talking about what will happen from now on. I’m using this pain to make something wonderful.”

He held her hand, like he had so many times. Her masculine hands. Creative hands for making wonderful things. Like her saddest smile.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Peter by Hugh Cron (Strong Adult Content)

“I need to speak to Peter.”

Ann looked at him and worried straight away.

“What’s wrong love, why has he got you so riled – I mean, for fuck sake, he’s Peter, the most inoffensive wee guy that we’ve ever known.”

Colin gave her a hug, “I don’t want to say anything until I hear his side.”

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All Stories, Fantasy, Humour

Kingdom Collapse by Doug Hawley

On July 5 of 2033 Antarctic bases McMurdo, Davis, Casey and others reported earthquakes of 6 magnitude on the Richter scale. South Africa and Tierra Del Fuego in South America had minor tsunamis shortly after the earthquakes.  Helicopters flew to the suspected center of the disturbance near the South Pole.  What they saw was deeply disturbing.  An area of hundreds of thousands of square kilometers had subsided anywhere from a few to a hundred meters deep.  What appeared to be naked humans were slowly digging out of the steaming slush.  As the observers goggled at the scene, something like a red guided missile flew out of the depression so fast it was just a blur.  There was no safe landing place, so the helicopters which were short of fuel flew back to their bases.  When the film they had taken was released, the world observed a second odd event.

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General Fiction, Short Fiction

This is My Rifle, This is My Gun by Shannon Greenstein

“Sir?”

The Artist jumped, whirling away from the attic window out of which he had been staring.

“Stay there,” he barked, and the figure he had been sketching immediately froze, Lot’s wife on the heels of her one bad decision.

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Short Fiction, sunday whatever

Weight Gain by Hugh Cron

“I take it you eat most of your food at home, gorging, where no-one can see?”
“I suppose so, at home that is but never gorging.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“What’s your favourite? Kebabs? Chips and Cheese? Sweet And Sour? Trifle? All of the above?”

“…Probably fish.”
“Oh, I do like a fish supper but you know, my waste-line doesn’t look after itself! So is it chips and curry
sauce and a battered fish for you?”
“No. I like a Salmon Caesar Salad with a touch of lemon mayonnaise. Or a Sea-bass on a bed of
courgette, tomatoes, asparagus and mange-tout.”
“Really! Well fuck me! Puddings though, I take it you like your puddings? All of them/ Isthere any that
you prefer?”
“Yep, I love fresh fruit.”
“Well it’s getting a bit clearer now, you never see a skinny gorilla! I suppose it’s a good job that they don’t
like ice-cream…What’s your favourite flavour? I bet it’s chocolate”
“Ice cream goes right through me so I avoid it.”
“…But you are really fat, so maybe some of it sticks.”
“My weight is an enigma to me. I am the only person that I know who can defecate, stand on the scales
and be two pounds heavier…How that makes me laugh.”
“What about sweeties, you must eat loads or is it tonnes?”
“Nope, I prefer plain crackers.”
“With what?”
“Nothing really, just a glass of red wine.”
“A glass or a case?”
“…Just a glass, enough for my crackers.”
“Hee-Hee same sort of question, just the packet or a case?”
“A few does me.”
“So you’re telling me that you eat the way that you do and yet you are still fucking enormous??”
“I suppose I am.”
“I don’t believe you. You must be shovelling in a dozen or so doughnuts. Maybe you are one of those
weird fucks who sleep eat, walk, eat and walk…Does your food go missing? And does the staff of your
local twenty-four hour Spar look at you in a funny way?”

“No.”
“Exercise! I take it you are a lazy bastard and do fuck all?”
“I walk to my work so I do around twenty miles a week.”
“Twenty?”
“Around that and that isn’t counting me being on my feet all day.”
“You can’t be watching what you eat. I know fucking everything that goes into my mouth.”
“I don’t watch what I eat as I know that it doesn’t matter”
“I take it that you’re happy to be a fat cunt?”
“I don’t think any folks are.”
“Can you even see your cock in the shower?”
“Yes, it’s big enough thank you very much.”
“Jesus fuck…I could never be your size. I’d need to kill myself. But it’s great to see a bloater who is happy
with the way that they are – Fair play to you.”
“I can understand that and do you know what gets me through?”
“Chocolates??”
“No. Mindless violence to the likes of you, so I’m going to kill you now and save you from ever having to
take your skinny anorexic arse and vomit up another cheeseburger ever again you fucking weight
watching cunt!”

Hugh Cron