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Latest Stories

April 13, 2024
Flash Fiction Benoit

The March

By just one seat, the Coalition of Hard Fighting Women, More Justice for Women and Green Now had won the election. At 12 noon on Giri (Wednesday), triumphant feminists would march from each end of Sydney Harbour Bridge to celebrate. Led by Prime Minister…
April 13, 2024
Flash Fiction Dominik Slusarczyk

The Exam

I I catch the ball, spin, and throw it back to my friend. I throw it way too hard. It goes sailing over my friend’s head, bounces, then goes into the back of a girl sat in a little circle with her friends. One of her friends tuts at us and tells us to be more…
April 13, 2024
Mystery Stories MegaParsec

Mrs Briton's Secret

Everyday Mrs. Briton would quietly leave the house in the dark. She would tiptoe so that no one would ever come to know that…..(beginning given) She was dying. The only pillar of the family’s well-being depending on a tiny vial and a hypodermic needle. Every…
April 11, 2024
Horror Stories Luna Woods

Cornswell The Witch

The year is 1692. A young fellow named David was on his way into town when he saw a weird-looking house in the distance. The house was old and run-down, but there was still light burning through the windows. "DAVID. DAAAAAAVIIIID." David turned around to see…
April 11, 2024
Science Fiction Stories David Blitch

Do You Remember When?

Do you remember when? Before the Alien Bastards came? Well, I sure do! I sit here in my farm house on the lake, at the foothills of the White Mountains, getting wasted on cheap beer even before the lunch bell has rung. It is a place so secluded, among the…
April 11, 2024
Romance Stories A.Coster

A Night In The Black Forest

My homebound journey following my tour of Europe was interrupted when my plane halted in Paris for a couple hours, leaving me with just one hour in Frankfurt to make my connecting flight. As I had feared, I would not make it. If you’ve traveled through…
April 01, 2024
Science Fiction Stories Salvatore Difalco

Life And Death In The Arcology

My neuropractioner, Dr. Mercury Pope, called my state of despair a waste of time. He wasn’t the only one, but coming from a neuropractioner it meant something. “Let me edit you,” he said, reaching for what they called the Helmet Doctor, a portable editing…
April 01, 2024
General Stories Michael Barlett

The Need For Speed

‘Be-Bop-a-Lula, she’s my baby Be-bop-a Lula, I don’t mean maybe’… CHAPTER ONE Gene Vincent’s rock n’ roll hit song blasted from the Radio Shack speakers in Scotty Ferguson’s souped-up ’53 Studebaker Hawk. Scotty had just cruised the length of the downtown…
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.…

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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