Tag: relationships

All Stories, General Fiction

At the Barn in Winter by Michael Barrington

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She was asleep now, her head leaning on his outstretched arm, her delicate, dainty fingers finally relaxing their grip on his huge, calloused hand. The musky scent of her beautiful, long hair, she was so proud of it, stirred up old memories of happier times. He knew every inch of her face, her lovely, big brown eyes that always seemed so full of wonderment, her delicate lips…. He was afraid to move for fear of awakening her, but he needed to relieve his numbing arm. And to do so quickly before being forced to make some abrupt movement that might disturb her. It was pitch black…. He mustn’t turn on the light.

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All Stories, General Fiction

 Cycle by Frederick K Foote

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I was a son of segregation born in a small Virginia village. My heritage was discrimination without the possibility of assimilation.

At age six, on my first day at our all-Black school, I played the fool and set myself down beside a strange, weird creature named Bernice Lighthorse.

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All Stories, Romance

Just for Now by Tom Sheehan

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My son Jamie brought me to all my treatments at the hospital in Danvers,  a 7-minute drive for him as he says for more than three years (I am loaded with many ailments of various kinds) and I always noticed a lady who brought her father for his appointments, but dressed as though she was going to a ball, a fancy dress, and a marvelous pair of legs that could dance her across Broadway in her day, being the  knockout she was, and carried yet a boatload of her beauty into a few years of time.

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All Stories, General Fiction

The Return to the Lakehouse by Adam Kluger

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The meme had been replaying again and again in Booger’s mind. 

“They are eating the cats, eating the dogs, eating the pets in Springfield.” 

It was about 50 days away from a quite consequential presidential election. 

Bugowski was pushing 60 and he was just as big a mess as he always was.

“Have you read the secret life of plants?” Rooster asked Booger as they unloaded the cooler full of Pabst Blue Ribbon, Poland Spring with  lime (the most carbonated of all seltzers) and all the other boxes, bags and items for another guy’s weekend. “The plants communicate through chemical emissions, I read an excerpt…not surprising given their predominant place on the planet and the way they all live together harmoniously…beautifully, really.” 

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All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller

Lizzie by Richard Hulse

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As the hot afternoon ticked by, Lizzie thought they wouldn’t show. Then, far off, a vehicle coming down that dusty road. A car, not a truck.

It got closer and the passenger door was opening even before it stopped. Then Charlene was out and running to Lizzie, and Lizzie, she was jumping straight into her big cousin’s smile. Both of Charlene’s hands were on either side of Lizzie’s face.

‘Oh, I’ve missed you!’ said Charlene. ‘You been all right, baby? Have you?’

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All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller

Potato Salad and Mixed Drinks by Christopher Ananias

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I moved the boiling eggs to the cold burner. Hopefully Edward wasn’t lactose intolerant. I was making my famous potato salad. The newscaster sounded solemn—something about a landslide—Indonesia or somewhere. Then almost musically, “Onto the local murders.”

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All Stories, General Fiction

Alterations by JD Clapp

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I was looking out the front window, watching the snow fall, waiting for the mailman to come with my disability check. Jesus, the snow is sticking now, and my tires are bald. I needed to deposit that check today. I was out of food, running low on whiskey, and I still owed Mrs. Schmidt half the rent for this little shithole of a duplex. Fuck my life. Then, I got the call.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Hannibal, Missouri by: Amber Bell

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“Follow me,” a broad-shouldered woman wearing a name tag that said Deborah told Jade.

Jade followed her through a glass door, past a man working a register, and down a hall lined with half-open boxes.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Snakes in The Garden by Gerald Coleman

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“Killing a snake is the same as having a snake”

– Joan Didion

A large, clay and plaster likeness of Saint Patrick, holding a crook and pointing at writhing snakes on the statue’s base, dominated the right side of our church. He was wheeled in face up on a donkey-cart, wenched upright by strong men when St. Patrick’s Church on Ninety-Fifth Street in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, was built in 1847. “Black Forty-Seven” my dad called it.

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