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Latest Stories

March 19, 2024
Fantasy Stories Wondering Monk

Just My Imagination

The alarm clock went off and started playing an awful tune. Tom opened his eyes and closed them back, squinting. He reopened one eye and stood up to stop the torture. The phone was on the desk, in the furthest spot from the bed. Although he changed his way of…
March 19, 2024
Science Fiction Stories Ocelotlzin

Earth Is Dead

Recording… It doesn't matter who I was; I probably lived a long time ago, and I am now just a voice someone added to the audio-visual records. What is essential is the recollection of events that lead to the current state. So, a little history needs to be…
March 08, 2024
Flash Fiction Benoit

Some Enchanted Evening

It was a rugby tackle with tears: Chrissy burst in, sobbing and babbling, hugging James. Her face was all wet, eyes wild. What…? My parents split up, Dad has moved in with his boyfriend and I cannot join them. I am shut out. I have lost my dad. Torrent of…
March 08, 2024
Horror Stories Marvel Chukwudi Pephel

In The Hands Of My Legs

The car pulled up in front of the large salon. The neon sign, that sexy broad thing, on the salon'sroof read "Mr. Gil's All-night Salon". The exhaust pipe of the car was pumping solid smoke, theswirls moving from the car and towards the salon.…
March 07, 2024
Mystery Stories Vanessa Leigh Giles

Casualty of Love in the Time of Coronavirus

Chapter 1 Until Death do us Part ‘Ring, ring!’. I answered the telephone and asked, “Hello, good evening. Who’s this? “Hello.” This is Dr. Smith from Red Cross hospital. “Is this Mr. Locke, John?”, he asked, hesitantly scratching his bald head. “Yes, doctor.…
March 07, 2024
Crime Stories Robert Pook

Bar Room Trigger

Another return journey on footpaths so familiar. He strides across each crack in each paving stone. Regular loose drain covers sidestepped. Mapping long ago mapped in Richard’s desolate mind. His pace hastened by the sight of the oncoming storm. Quickening…
March 04, 2024
Horror Stories Ano Chinemerem

Sanctity

Where should I begin? I could begin by telling you about this comely boy, whom every notable person around the streets agrees his smile could charm the bills off one. Between one smile, there was his goodness, his dreams and humanity—a little far ahead?— but…
March 04, 2024
Flash Fiction Emanuel Diaz

Et Mortui Partium

As Rafael stepped out into the rain, it wasn't the ordinary drops that fell from the sky. Instead, it was a storm of souls, each one taking the form of shimmering jewelry as it cascaded toward the ground. Rubies, diamonds, and sapphires twinkled amidst the…
February 29, 2024
Poetry Jing Li Ava

London

‘Am I in London?’ "I am." Where is Elizabeth? Happy living story All of your chapter Bounlance joy Please my heart Power hand Wise mind Our baby Vow vow Love all love Miss I miss Endless wonder Bring us together Love all love Miss I miss For everything My…
February 29, 2024
Flash Fiction Rob Pook

Life Sentence of The Smith

Born nine months after his country won the World Cup.A child prodigy.Cast off at age twenty-four.Husband, father, emigree, away on the other side of the world.The blue-collar life.The dreams of success.The search for fulfillment.The long years of empty…
February 29, 2024
Mystery Stories Joshua Lowther

The Operator

Jason looked over to his right, his eyes barely able to focus themselves on the subject of his attention. His neck ached terribly from the strenuous movement. He was tired. The captain’s gaze came to rest on the rookie sonar operator sitting tense at his…
February 29, 2024
Flash Fiction Salvatore Difalco

The Chute

At dusk, we left our unit with a soft pink bundle. I carried it through the wet streets and into the black woods. I said I’d take it all the way, the bundle, but that we had to drop it in together. My wife’s green eyes flashed. “Don’t make me do that.” I…

Every inch of me trembles.

I'd trade every breath I have left for the courage to chomp down and let his sweet blood pool in the back of my throat.

The heat and rolling gurgle would be enough satisfaction to offset the coughing – I'd need to dislodge the liquid out of my windpipe eventually.

 

Or, I'd let myself drown in his crimson. Then I'd die happy, at least.

 

It crosses my mind, but no. Definitely not today, there's too much to do today.

 

“Open a little wider,” he says, plunging his hands further into the crevices of my mouth. My lips and cheeks squirm at my thoughts of potential filthy satiation.

 

It's been weeks.

 

But, the face goes back on. The human one. The one he sees. I glare up at his blue-masked visage and squint into the relentless examination light.

 

“No problem, Doc,” I mumble my response a bit clumsily.  He doesn't seem impressed with my efforts to speak and fights my tongue back into its oppressed position – pinned to the floor of my mouth.

 

Jesus, press it harder.

 

He can't possibly know how my stomach flips at the playful dance shared by his sheathed digits and my wet, swollen sceptre. It's a blind snake, so thirsty.

 

 

Then comes the haze of daydream – peripheral at first, but then I'm enveloped in it; I moan, he responds, “I'm sorry, does that hurt?” I say nothing, he goes again, I moan, “Please, do let me know if it's hurting you, I can give you more anaesthetic.” I wink, ushering him back into my mouth, thrilled beyond containment.

 

The second time his examination is cut deliciously short, with every sweet, ironic, titillating pun very much intended.

 

I open my eyes wide and bring my jaws together. There's rubber, then crunch, then my teeth collide with enough force to chip the tips of my incisors.

 

His fingers give little resistance and the flesh separates with surprising ease – I've read that the human finger is as easy to bite through as a carrot, but that's nonsense!

 

It's much softer than that, if you connect on the plane of smooth bone between knuckles. And, if you're enjoying it half as much as I do, it's like a katana through butter.

 

I manage to get two fingers. The blood gushes symmetrically down each of my cheeks – a perfect riverbed made by my grinning face allows a meanderless flow to my collar.

 

He's screaming. I hadn't planned for that, but it doesn't ruin it – his squeal almost perfectly harmonises with the low, nearly deafening quiver in my inner ear – the stressing tremors of a ravenously clenched jaw muscle.

 

It's beautiful. Too perfect. It has to be now.

It's coming.

I'm there.

 

“Well, we're done here,” I'm in disbelief at his announcement. Some thrive frustration, I fucking detest it. A thousand screams in my aching head, a hundred mirrors shatter into the smitherines of lost opportunity.

 

“I still don't know where that pain is coming from, but I have them a good cleaning anyway,” he sounds dejected, but that's all he could have done, my teeth are perfect. I'm back in the room and reality returns the hunger to the rosy, shaking skin of my lips.

 

“Floss again, make another appointment in a month and we'll see where we're at. But I really do think you should see my guy, he might be able to shed some light.”

 

Damn his specialist. He doesn't sound nearly as tasty.

 

“Heavens no, doctor. I couldn't dream of anybody else's hands under the hood.” We laugh at my flippant mechanical metaphor.

 

“Well, we'll give it another shot,” he turns and absently cleans his already clean tools as I watch the pink mouthwash circle the drain of his sink.

 

“See if that works in the meantime. You know, with the amount you come around, I'll put my daughter through college!”

 

“I'll put your daughter through a fucking blender.”

 

“What?” He does a slow, half-turn back in my direction, still laughing at his terrible joke.

 

“Hmm? Oh, I didn't say anything? See you in a month, doc.”

 

End

 

Anthony Deane is a writer of the macabre, the disturbing and the jarring. He lives and works in Dublin, Ireland, where he writes for newspapers and magazines as a journalist.

 

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