All Stories, General Fiction

The Claw  by Mark Czanik

Everyone was scared of it, although it was just a hand I found in the gutter. Not even a gripping one. ‘The Claw! Beware the Claw! Son of Claw!’ I cried as I chased them up and down the garages.

Pamela and Trudy ran screaming into the sanctuary of Trudy’s back garden. Harry flapped his arms like a wounded bird. Windy somehow heaved himself up by the drainpipe onto the asbestos garage roof and sat there hunched like a gargoyle, while Pods was so terrified he ran into Ted’s empty garage and pulled both doors shut on himself. I couldn’t catch any of them.

‘Revenge of the Claw!’

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All Stories, General Fiction

No Moon In January by Joe Mallon

Danny got to Average Joe’s early.  Ten o’clock.  Before Bobby.  Before he lost his nerve.

Maybe ten people there, a couple along the bar, a few at the tables.  A geezer sat on a stool near the door, with a cop’s buzzcut and a hard stare. A baseball bat leaned against the wall.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Baby’s Breath by Leanne Simmons

Peggy Garrett must have been glad that Geary’s had given up on the old way and got a ramp fitted. For years I’d watched her lump poor Jim up the step, the wheels catching on the threshold, before she’d lean forward to see to him, like a magpie claiming a crust. She, always in black with her wispy hair that had turned white the night of the accident.

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All Stories, General Fiction

The Second Husband by Cris Aboobaker

If I’m born again as a man instead of as a woman, I will aim the silly-looking mushroom waggling between my legs and shoot my stream so it splashes dead center in the toilet bowl. Bullseye! Bango! How hard can that be?

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All Stories, General Fiction

Blue Light by Huina Zheng

Mei bought these silkworms on Taobao. She said a silkworm’s life cycle lasted four to six weeks, and by the time this batch spun their silk, her body would more or less be properly conditioned again too. But what she bought were not ordinary silkworms. They were advertised as “colored silkworms.” In the online shop photos they looked beautiful, bright red and green, but when they arrived, they looked nothing like the pictures. They lay sluggishly inside a Wing Wah mooncake tin, the one I had lent her, like specimens soaked in formalin for three days. Their bluish gray skin was covered in irregular dark spots, as if someone had stabbed them with pencil tips, or as if they had some kind of skin disease. Some had strange lumpy growths rising from their backs. Me said these were called “dragon horn silkworms,” a rare breed whose silk came out golden yellow. But when I looked at those bumps, all I could think of were the scabs left after squeezing pimples. Mei said the cocoons could sell for a good price, but when she poured them into the mooncake tin, three were already dead. The rest writhed weakly, as if barely clinging to life. Mei said she had consulted Baidu and planned to shine blue light on them to stimulate their growth.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Death in a Gourd  by Matias Travieso-Diaz

 Mate is so much more than a drink — it’s a living tradition
that binds us to each other and the land.

Fabiana Pose

The Eurovision Song Contest winner that year was a stunning brunette from Paraguay, Gisela Ortiz, who represented Spain in the contest and sang an enthralling guarania (romantic ballad) that won the acclaim of a large segment of the voting public and the members of a jury of music industry professionals. She soon turned her meteoric rise to fame into cash by tirelessly promoting a variety of products and services.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Inside the Possum Coat by Patrick G. Roland

“You scary pretty,” she said, settling onto the lattice bench. She wasn’t her, but she looked at me the same way, as if she knew the part. Ever since Celeste’s funeral, I kept finding her inside strangers. I checked the time out of habit. The second hand trembled near the six. The woman was small inside a brown trench coat made of possum fur, seams hand-stitched with thick black wax taxidermy thread. The woman kept her eye on me, then threw a coin into the fountain beside us.

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General Fiction, Short Fiction

Almost Cinderella by Claudine Mussuto

In my mind, I walked in bare feet on a narrow, yellowed, dry-grass path, not stilettos or Merrell’s, Asic’s or glass slippers. Posturing and protection seemed incompatible with the advancing disclosures.

Left and right there were walls of water like the falls in certain hotel lobbies and shopping malls, but seemingly static, not flowing, like glacial ice, the same layered turquoise and white, and mirrored, warped, the way shame distorts what isn’t love into something recognizable and consequently accepted.  There was enough width for my shoulders plus an inch or two on either side.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Little Bites by Jake K. Istuk

She’s never home when I want her to be, and when she is, sometimes I wish she’d just go. Tonight there’s a cat on our couch. It’s purring under the pressure of her palm. She’s left the window open, and the very edge of a drizzle is falling through. Tiny little droplets are falling through the awnings and onto the windowsill. Portents of water damage and mold.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Five Millimetres from the Rim by  Charlotte L. Sworn

Maggie walked into the kitchen and flinched. Bert was in the kitchen. In her spot.

The clock chimed. Seven minutes before the day started. She teetered forward, shielding her eyes as the jumble of papers and pens on the kitchen table leapt out at her.

She gasped, hot tears stinging her eyes. Bert had desecrated her workspace.

“Good morning, darling,” Bert said, turning his head. “Tea will be ready in a minute.”

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