Reader Alert – Adult content
They rush us up the hill to safety like a herd of Caribou moving past the basketball courts. Sirens whoop in all directions. Black smoke pours out the windows—oxygen is key—she is really going now. Gilbert smiles. Gilbert is deranged. His brother killed eight people at the Lilly Street Mall.
Continue reading “In the Flames by Christopher Ananias”
“What happened was… He went a-midnight kissin’. Then he went a-woo-woo-missin.’”
Mama wiped her hands on a dishtowel. She just come in from the garden.
Continue reading “Somethin’ to Croon About by Carly Berg”
Young Toche, “the bird,” slight of stature and weighing no more than a bundle of palm leaves, was forever a dreamer. In his tiny village, deep in the jungles in Colombia, time moves slowly. He lived the life of his ancestors. Dinner came at the end of a spear, and fire and a thatch roof were luxuries. Modernity was yet to invade.
Continue reading “Little Green Men by Jason Abshire”
Tonight, a strong man died in Belfast.
We had been on the site for three days. Day one, up went the big tent. The rigging, lights, safety nets and everything else that goes into putting on ‘the show’. Day two, the dress rehearsal and an opportunity for those of us who needed it, to get clean. A chance for those of us who needed it, to score. Day three was opening night. We were set up on the outskirts of Andersonstown. Out of the way, on a plot of land that had been raised to the ground under the promise of social philanthropy only for the plans to cool and the memories to fade. Now it’s little more than uneven concrete and free parking. That’s how Mal got it for the week for so cheap. It should have been a risk this far out, but people are the same everywhere. You put enough curiosities in one place and they’ll come out of wherever they’re held up to look at them.
Continue reading “Andytown by David Louden”
Disturbing content – see tags at the bottom of the page.
Gil doesn’t talk, just sits there drawing demons. Mr. Ny clapped his erasers together and called Gil to the blackboard for one of his impossible Geometry theorems. Gil snatched up the chalk, like a pissed-off Picasso, and made quick hard chalk-chalk marks, and it was solved. The last bell rang and the mad dash.
Continue reading “After Lloyd by Christopher J. Ananias”
This is a crime scene. I shouldn’t be here; I’m not a cop anymore. So, I ducked under the yellow tape strung across the two trellis supports and picked the lock. Dusting residue coated surfaces in suspect locations; someone had cut two patches from the cheap gray rug. A ceiling fan with a squeaky bearing rotated slowly, which helped me breathe because the smell of death hung like diesel exhaust.
Continue reading “Slither by Ed N. White”
Cass had been on the Cold Case Time Travel squad eight years when I replaced her partner, Hoss. We’d done things differently in Present-Day Homicide so I shut up and listened. Cass was a pro, by the book mostly–she could even fix the damn machine! And since no other towns could afford the traveler fees, we’d be in ’60s Harlem one day and ’30s Greenwich the next. I’m guessing they brought me in for the Harlem cases. Brothers don’t tend to open up to two pale folks from the future. Of course, they weren’t supposed to know we were from the future, but occasionally our Era Lingo implants malfunctioned.
Continue reading “Baby Blues by Jack Powers”
A cross-country move is a big change, I get that, but no way I deserve this nightmare I’ve landed in. The relocation wasn’t even my idea. Doctor’s orders, right? The doc said I needed a drier climate and less stress. And the move did lower my stress level, at least initially. Putting three thousand miles between me and the cops, that’s a hidden bonus. Needless to say, I didn’t mention that to the good doctor.
Continue reading “The Horrible Relocation by Marco & Liam Etheridge”
The hole was definitely growing.
Jonty could tell, having just woken from a nap, face tingling with grass imprints and a half-crushed flailing ladybird stuck on his eyelashes, to find the hole bigger and nearer.
Jonty was seen as a shabby, acceptable kind of aristo who loitered in gardens on dewy mornings, drunk or whimsical, misquoting Homer and asking for a crustless sandwich while he sat, as squat as a stone rounded by a forgiving sea, marvelling at the stains on his tie.
Continue reading “Personal Growth by Ben Fitton”
As a kid, he was the one who found nickels, dimes, and quarters on the sidewalk, got two candy bars to fall into the well of the vending machine when he had only paid for one, and succeeded where so many others had failed in bashing open the piñata. Two or three times, when he wasn’t ready for a test, the teacher wouldn’t show up. Test cancelled. Stuff like that. His whole life.
Continue reading “Why Is Jake Always So Lucky? by Paul Crehan”
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