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Latest Stories

February 06, 2026
General Stories Thomas Turner

The Lost Williamsen

Coming back from Switzerland, after my wife died, was pretty hard, but I made it. When I landed in LaGuardia airport. I went to go get my luggage. That's where my brother Eddie was, to pick me up and to see the rest of the family. Eddie comes over to me and…
February 06, 2026
Horror Stories Tom Kropp

Killing & Carnage

The sun was a blood lurid red slipping below the jagged peaks of the Redmount Mountains. For Shannon, its fading light was not a promise of rest, but a countdown to her dark side.​ She pressed her spine against the damp, crumbling limestone of a marketplace…
February 06, 2026
Poetry Markus J

2 Aussie Limericks 2 Aussie Clerihews

once a aussie yobbo named pete who only wore thongs on his feet a bunion grew on his toes and a red wart on his nose over were his days at the beach ------------------------------------------------------ there once was a jackaroo who went by the name of blue…
February 02, 2026
Flash Fiction Matias Travieso-Diaz

My Second Middle Name

San Lázaro no quiere palabras, quiere hechos. Popular Cuban refrain A few hours after I was born, my parents had a conversation regarding my name. The usual practice in Cuba, as in many other countries, was that a baby would have two given names apart from…
February 02, 2026
General Stories Thomas Turner

Year One

T J Tuner, Sonny Turner and Curt Chown January 4, 1976- Ocean avenue, Brooklyn New York: Sonny and his wife are having coffee at 5pm Sunday. His wife’s name is Candy. This is when Candy asks ‘When are they picking you up?’ Sonny says ‘7:30 pm.’ Candy asks…
February 02, 2026
Horror Stories Tom Kropp

Werewolf Bar Brawl

Shannon returned to the main street and boldly approached the cantina. At the doorway, one of the burly guards boldly said, "We don't allow no outside whores in here. Only Diego's girls are allowed to work here." "Don't insult me. I'm not a whore. I just…
February 02, 2026
Flash Fiction Matias Travieso-Diaz

The Self-Serving Giraffe

Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live. Oscar Wilde Grumpff was a Somali giraffe male (Giraffa reticulata) in a herd that inhabited a dry savannah in northern Kenya. He was eighteen feet tall and two…
February 02, 2026
Poetry Markus J

An Aussie Had A Barry Crocker

once an Aussie had a Barry Crocker when he got fined from an angry copper he smoked up his golden ute then said it was real beaut because of this, the fine was made double and his best mate was nicked named blue cooked kangaroo and emu stew gave none to…
February 02, 2026
Crime Stories Shane Horton

Super Detectives (Queen Bee)

The smoke of my cigarette dances on the fire of its embers while I breathe in the tar. Chills silently run along my body from the slow breezes of the city. Exposed skin is cold like chunks of ice from the late winter. Honking, common yelling, and occasional…
February 02, 2026
Science Fiction Stories Tom Kropp

Eye Of The Cyborg

Fierce winds whipped across the blood red desert of Dumar and its stormy scarlet skies were filled with soaring starships. A large city sparkled in the hellish light, safe from the storm behind flickering photonic forcefields. It was a volatile planet prone…
January 27, 2026
General Stories J.P. Young

Bittersweet Christmastide In A Winter Wonderland

“Our sweetest songs are those of saddest thought.” ― Percy Bysshe Shelley “It”s always sumtin”, ain”t it?” – Rico Long ago and far away…Things were like the good old days…and as Rico said, Ray lived for the good olddays…As his wife Katrina was working late at…
January 27, 2026
Fantasy Stories Fayaway & Hermester Barrington

Three Days' Flight to Mitrúvishar

Wednesday, November 20th, 2024 From: John Parchment <dragonwriter@mitruvishar.com> To: Emmett Zuntz <ezuntz@majicorpmedia.com> Dear Mr. Zuntz, thou ASCII Mephistopheles, I hereby tender my resignation to Majicorp Media. When I left my secure-but-boring…

Sarah dried her eyes, folded the note and stuffed it in her pocket book. She sat in the solitude of a toilet stall and stared at the floor.

The sound of a colleague using an adjacent facility prompted her to regain composure, leave her sanctuary and confront her bedraggled image in the bathroom mirror. She washed the black streaks from her face, applied a light blush and scurried back to the office floor.

 

Nothing on the computer screen made sense. Preoccupied with her husband’s infidelity, her unwitting relationship with the other woman, exacerbated her sense of betrayal and vulnerability. Unable to cope with her newfound knowledge, she left the office on the pretext of following a lead for an important story, and drove to Laurel Hill County Park.

As she walked along the banks of the Hackensack, she thought about Natasha and John. When she tried to imagine life without them, a sharp stabbing pain forced her to stop and catch her breath. The prospect of losing her husband and daughter put everything in perspective. As she pondered her infidelity, she realised how little Gary meant to her. An ill-conceived fling amounted to nothing compared with the contentment, security and happiness she had found in her three years of marriage. An error of judgement fed by her weakness for attention had compromised her values and fuelled an affair. She had allowed the relationship with her husband to fall into a rut, had been insensitive to his needs and encouraged him to stray. When another woman wanted him, it made the loss more poignant and forced her to appreciate what she had taken for granted.

She sat for a while and scanned the lush meadowlands. People wearing life jackets and yellow helmets swayed and bobbed in harmony as they navigated their kayaks down wide waterways and narrow bends. Exuberant kids, parents in tow, ran back and forth along grassy banks, their innocence reinforcing her sense of loss and loneliness. Couples, hand-in-hand, reminded her of the times John and her had walked here. Once, on a quiet fall evening, she had lured him into making love in an area sheltered only by thick reeds and bulrush. She had always been the more promiscuous of the two.

When she stood and looked across the choppy blue abyss, a thought crossed her mind – but only for a second. Shivering, she strolled back to the car and contemplated her next move. She just couldn’t face her husband tonight. Calling him seemed the logical thing to do. When his voice mail kicked in, she left a message. The possibility of an important story meant she had to pull an out-of-towner at short notice. While she regretted the inconvenience, she knew he would understand. Tempted to tell him she loved him – she reneged. It had been a while, and a phone call didn’t seem like the time to resurrect such an important phrase, let alone the attendant emotion.

She called Nora and asked if she could meet her at the Sheraton Meadowlands where she intended to spend the night. An hour later, as Sarah sipped a drink in a quiet area of the hotel bar, Nora burst in. She wore a gold-sequenced top - much too tight for its contents - a black, thigh hugging skirt and high-heeled shoes that matched the colour of her top. She rushed over and opened her arms.

“Hey, girlfriend, what’s the matter? You’ve been crying, haven’t you?”

She pulled Sarah to her breasts and signalled a bartender. “A gin and tonic please and whatever my friend’s having.” She pushed Sarah back and scrutinised her. “On second thought make that a double, looks like we’re in for a long night.”

When the drinks arrived Sarah settled and relayed her story. Nora shook her head. “My, my, you girls are getting all the action. How come I can’t get any of that?”

She rested her hand on Sarah’s thigh. “I hear you, sis, I hear you. You’re hurting. Your mind’s scrambled; you need some advice. Well here it is, so listen up. You hear me now? Old Nora here . . . she’s had her share of ups and downs.”

Sarah nodded. “I know, Nora, I know, that’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

Nora folded her arms. “How do you feel about Gary?”

“A fling, nothing more.”

“Okay. It’s you, John and Judy, then.”

“I guess.”

Nora ran her finger round the top of her glass. “So Judy got a piece of your man – big deal. You got a piece of somebody else’s man. I reckon that leaves you and your man about even. You want him back?”

Sarah turned. “Of course I want him back.”

“Then you gotta win him back. Hearts and minds, cutie, that’s what it’s all about. You gotta make sure he sees nothing in other women. Let me ask you something.  Have you been taking good care of your man?”

Sarah leaned back and shook her head. “No.”

“See, there’s your problem right there . . . neglect, honey. Men need attention. Make him feel good. Give him a little action when he needs it. You hear what I’m saying? Dress up. Look good. Once he sees other guys drooling over you he won’t want to let you go. Get that cute little tush of yours into some lacy underwear. Flaunt that tight little hiney for your own man. Look at you, sitting there in the dark feeling sorry for yourself. Get out there. Go, win him back.”

Sarah finished her drink and shook her head. “Still doesn’t help to know he and Judy were together.”

“Ain’t no thing, sweetie. Grow up. You think he never slept with another woman before? That’s not how it works. Now, I gotta get going.”

Nora gulped the last of her drink, jumped up and held out her arms. “I’ll expect to see you at work tomorrow. It’s Friday, you got some thinking to do.”

Sarah fell into the embrace. “I know, Nora, I know. Thank you so much. I’ll sleep on it.”

She didn’t sleep. Her mind raced throughout the night. She opened her gift box at work and stared at the red thong Gary had bought her. She paused, looked to his office and nodded. He smiled and turned away.

*          *          *

Sarah didn’t show for happy hour. Gary tried to contact her, but he had no way of knowing her cell lay ringing in an empty car. She had left it there before deciding to walk along the banks of the Hackensack in the dark.

 

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