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Latest Stories

November 05, 2026
General Stories Matias Travieso-Diaz

The Day I Climbed Mount Washington

Troubles forereckoned are doubly suffered. Christian Nestell Bovee In the mid-1970s, while I was attending law school in Manhattan, one of my most pleasurable diversions was to drive to Vermont the last weekend of September. There I would meet my close…
November 04, 2026
Horror Stories Alejandro Casas

Loss and Grief

Johann Sebastian Bach’s Partita No. 2 for Solo Violin, Chaconne in D Minor (BWV 1004), plays faintly in the background. During the summer of 2008, Lauren had lived through an intense period of loss that would mark her for the rest of her life. She often…
November 04, 2026
Crime Stories Michael Barlett

Deadly Reckoning

CHAPTER ONE It was a warm sultry night in August and the sun was just setting over the horizon. I was floating in a small rubber dinghy just off a remote wooded shoreline. I reached into my bait bucket and scooped up a live frog. Its eyes bulged as it…
November 04, 2026
Fantasy Stories Alejandro Casas

Paradox or Coincidentia Oppositorum

"Viver é muito perigoso... Querer o bem com demais força, de incerto jeito, pode já estar sendo se querendo o mal, por principiar." “Living is very dangerous…Wanting good too intensely, in an uncertain way, might already mean wanting evil, from the very…
November 04, 2026
General Stories Alejandro Casas

Malady

“Thoughts without content are empty; intuitions without concepts are blind” -Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason “In fact, our willing is the only opportunity we have of understanding simultaneously from within any event that outwardly manifests itself;…
November 04, 2026
Poetry Alejandro Casas

Wayfarers

Dedicated to Samuel Taylor Coleridge I am in no doubt that the creative story of Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s composition of Kubla Khan had some general influence on my subconscious, for I was aware of this story, having encountered it in my early teens, and yet…
November 04, 2026
General Stories Matias Travieso-Diaz

First White Hairs

Death smiles at us all, all a man can do is smile back. Marcus Aurelius Edith caught her husband in the bathroom, tweezers in hand, struggling with something. Noting the concern showing in his wrinkled brow, she questioned: “What are you poking at, honey?”…
September 18, 2026
Science Fiction Stories Lilyan Ruiz

Cosmic Crash (Part Two)

Almost thirty years earlier… Nathaniel Cole was married to Catherine Cole. Together, they had two children: their oldest child, Tobias, and their daughter, Lola. Nathaniel and Catherine’s marriage seemed like something out of a Disney fairy tale—a prince…
September 16, 2026
Crime Stories Matias Travieso-Diaz

Making Amends

The beginning of atonement is the sense of its necessity. Lord Byron If only I had …. Maybe I should …. What can I do? … Theo’s thoughts drifted aimlessly, like a lotus floating on a pond, switching from regrets about past errors to misgivings about his…
September 16, 2026
General Stories Lilyan Ruiz

An Apology To My Dad

I never thought I would write these words. For years, I carried things inside of me that I didn’t know how to explain. Hurt has a way of growing when it is buried. It can turn into anger, resentment, and eventually words that come out much harsher than we…
September 05, 2026
Horror Stories Vidal Martinez

Bittersweet Revenge

I walk into the pub and there she is, in the far corner, sitting at a table with her friends.She sees me, smiles, and gives me that look. I know exactly what’s going to happen. She standsup, moving through the crowd. She approaches. Before I say anything, I…
September 05, 2026
Romance Stories Thomas Turner

Not Just Any Man Of Twim's

A woman is running a ranch house in Upstate New York. Her name is Sharon “Twim” Morris. All workers are male. Her ranch house has all payroll and employee profiles. Sharon decides to take a break and go outside. She is going into town and will take one of…

They lived together in a rustic looking A-Frame house down the road off the lake. There were three of them, Nancy, Cathy and Mike, all in their early sixties. They were very pleasant, even though townsfolk could tell they were from New York City; all three pretty much kept to themselves and seemed very happy and content with each other living the semi-rural lifestyle here in New England.

Nancy was a trim and fit blonde who looked dynamite in stylish but simple standard corduroy pants and sweater combinations under her tailored navy jacket. The cold, biting New England wind made her complexion even lovelier, complementing her nearly perfect smile.

Nancy loved to shop in the local markets; one could tell she was quite the gourmet cook. She could also be seen painting landscapes during our beautifully colorful autumn seasons. In addition, Nancy sang American Standards at our local coffee house. Her lovely voice blending her ageless sexuality and those timeless lyrical standards of the greatest generation made for quite enjoyable entertainment.

Cathy had an infectious laugh and a great smile. She was petite and slender, with ear length dark hair that was always set in a early 1960’s style out of Mad Men. Cathy looked like her denim jeans were painted on her perfect legs, her tops nicely fit and without a bra her tiny breasts still kept their upward perk.

Cathy also loved to cook and shop along with Nancy.  She loved to clean. The A Frame was always tidy and spotless. Nancy and Cathy were best friends for over forty years. Their friendship was eternal and transcended the physicality of their love. The two drew Mike into their physically and emotionally satisfying world back in New York City.

Cathy was the long distance runner of the three, loving those seemingly endless beautiful trails through tree packed forests along steep mountain terrain. Alternating between the complete silence of nature and classic rock music on her i phone during these runs, Cathy lived for the runner’s high.

Cathy loved to laugh and though not college educated like  Mike and Nancy, she was as sharp as they come. But at times, for affect, Cathy liked to scheme a good practical joke on her two lovers.

Mike was a six foot, blue eyed, retired New York City Police Officer with unkept salt and pepper hair. One could tell he kind of missed the hustle and bustle of being a cop in New York City, but was intrinsically drawn to our peaceful parcel of earth. He always had a smile and a wave for everyone in town.

Mike was not your average police officer. He had a prior career in education but went on to law enforcement instead of getting a Phd. in order to receive tenure in academia. But being a cop was what he was really meant to be. Mike’s sense of humor drove their friendship. He was funny and a true original.

He met Nancy when she ran a deli down on Broadway right off Houston Street in Greenwich Village. They became instant lovers and fast friends.  Nancy introduced Mike to her best friend Cathy and the three became an item. It took a while for Nancy and Cathy to find out what really made Mike tick, but they eventually did, and loved him even more.

Mike dabbled in writing and photography and loved to take long walks in the woods. He truly loves Nancy and Cathy and has finally obtained the contentment and peace that had evaded him since he returned from Viet Nam in 1969. He believes Nancy and Cathy’s place in his life is the answer to years of unidentifiable but gnawing uncertainty.

To Mike, Nancy and Cathy gave him creativity, independence, spontaneity, and most importantly, true love. Hence, he is able to unquestionably appreciate and enjoy existence.

Nancy and Cathy love taking care of Mike, and Mike loves being taken care of by Nancy and Cathy. In his own way, he fulfills and completes the ladies sense of being uniquely connected to the universe.

Mike calls their trio:  The Three H’s: Hazy Hot, and Humid.

They are three of the most contented people I have ever met.

 

Epilogue

 

Why Hazy, Hot and Humid?  Mike answered that with one of his “numerous humorous” observations:

Cathy is Hazy, with her feigned misunderstanding of events and Gracie Allen logic.

Nancy is Hot, for her unadulterated sexuality.

And......

Mike is Humid, for his unkept hair, having bad hair days even in the cold of New England.

 

End

 

Frankie Rembly  is new to writing and enjoys the renaissance of creativity in writing for television's new golden age.

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