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Latest Stories

July 03, 2025
Poetry Markus J

The Days Of Future Dreams

the days of future dreams the flames once rose high thinking our lives would end up supreme thinking our future seemed a far of dream but in the end nothing is what it seems many times the winds of changed has blown this way one minute we`re lapping the cream…
July 03, 2025
General Stories L Christopher Hennessy

Bad Girl

Part 1I lost the entire manuscript when I assassinated my laptop with sauvignon blanc as I rubbed the lower back of a woman who dozed drunk on my bed, sweating. She was crazed, somewhere between screaming and lying about the orgasm. Bree was a miracle to me,…
July 03, 2025
Horror Stories Nelly Shulman

Black Is Our Colour

“I swear she could have been you. Look! This girl is your long-lost twin.” Fi nudged me, and I smiled. “Never had or wanted one.” I stood up. “Let’s go, or the bargain hunters will clear the shelves before us.” We dived into the vintage emporium across the…
July 03, 2025
Poetry Markus J

The Transformation

"I need a brake" words that twisted my heart- shattering the dream that we would never part. I asked myself 'what ever did I do wrong? sad, gloominess could`ve easily been my song. I wouldn't let the anger and misery grow or cultivate- uprising feelings I…
July 03, 2025
Flash Fiction Benoit

Jae

It was Jae’s birthday today. She turned eight. What a beautiful sunny girl! Hyo planned a surprise or two; Li, his wife, did too. Birthday cake, a puppy and … Don’t forget, they grinned just before he drove off. Traffic was intense. A long call came from…
July 03, 2025
General Stories Matias Travieso-Diaz

Fear

Leandro stood outside the Kroger, leaning forward as he shivered in the early March dawn. He hated this moment: the cold, the fatigue, the feeling of helplessness, the anticipation of another day ahead at his degrading job picking collard leaves under the…
July 03, 2025
Horror Stories Mihko Askiweno

Found You

Panic gripped her as she staggered up the steep, rocky incline, breath coming in jagged, shallow gasps. Sweat streamed down her face in torrents, her hair clinging to her forehead and cheeks in disheveled clumps. Her legs trembled with exhaustion, molten fire…
July 03, 2025
Poetry Markus J

Lost On The Path

But alas; sometimes I think we've lost our way- too many strayed opinions...one too many a survey. Walking on the road ahead, just following the herd of sheep- with a hypnotised mind, wide awake yet very fast asleep. While yelling...join the team of the…
July 03, 2025
Flash Fiction Benoit

The Brothers

Juan and Pascal were shipped to distant relatives on Delvina’s periodic hospitalisations. For smoking and breathing difficulties. She had been warned but could not stop. They did not understand the illness or the connection. Pascal stayed with cousins who…
June 04, 2025
General Stories Dylan James Harper

The Bylaws Of The Revolutionary Council

A loud clang rang through the bunker as the door slammed shut. “I really think we have a chance to win this thing!” Greg’s voice echoed throughout the cold walls. The three other inhabitants of the bunker, Jeff, Ben, and Malcolm, all sat around a table…
June 04, 2025
General Stories Michael Barlett

Resurrection

The man lay there in extremis, no longer thinking of cool abstracts like ‘catching the last train for the coast.’ He gulped great rasping breaths – holding them impossibly long – before finally exhaling in a shuttering burst of putrid air. He had been…
June 04, 2025
Flash Fiction Benoit

Time Warp

Nothing was in order, nothing optimal. Germany was awash with refugees and adventurers. Only Angie could hold it together; but then she opened the gates! Who knows why? Other politicians were dinosaurs in the museum. Integration was the solution, was it? That…

A Feline Monologue - Editor

Miles

by Douglas T. Araujo

Yes, Officer, I admit I hit Mr. Whitmore. I hit him right on the head with the silver chandelier I inherited from my mother.

No, of course I didn’t want to kill him! That was an unfortunate accident, and I’m very sorry… poor Mrs. Whitmore… But what was I supposed to do? He broke into my apartment and wanted to take Miles away from me!

Who is Miles? Well, Miles is my cat. A ten years-old white Persian with marvelous blue eyes. A friend gave him to me soon after my husband passed away. He was just a kitten then, and I must say that taking care of him was the only thing that kept me alive during those difficult times.

Yes, it was like I said. Mr. Whitmore wanted to take Miles away, and that’s why I hit him with the chandelier. I couldn’t allow him to take Miles away, could I? I’m an old woman, Officer, and Miles is my only friend.

Well, I can’t say why Mr. Whitmore wanted to do that. Who can say what was going on the poor man’s mind? Besides, I don’t think we should say bad things about the dead… it’s just not right, don’t you agree?

Yes, Officer, I understand you need to know what really happened. But even so, I don’t think…

Very well, then. Since you’re insisting so much, I will tell you this: I can’t say for sure what Mr. Whitmore would do with Miles if he had taken him from me, but I’m pretty sure that I wouldn’t see Miles again.

Why do I say that? Because Mr. Whitmore hated Miles. He always did.

No, I don’t know why! I mean, I can understand when somebody says he prefers a dog instead of a cat, because that’s a matter of personal preference, and although I think a cat is worth a dozen dogs, I can understand it. But that was not the case with Mr. Whitmore. It was not that he wasn’t a cat person, he really disliked Miles.

Previous incidents? Well, I wouldn’t call them incidents, but yes, there had been some awkward situations before. Since Miles was a kitten, Mr. Whitmore had always complained about him. He blamed Miles for everything wrong that happened. I remember once when he found a dead rat at his front door and insisted it had been Miles who had put it there. Nonsense! It could have been any cat. But he was sure it had been Miles. He was so angry then that I became worried he would have a stroke… His whole face turned red. He even yelled at me! I also remember another time…

Sure, Officer, let’s focus on these last weeks. I apologize for wandering so much, but my mind just isn’t what it used to be anymore. It’s the age, you know? The brain cells start dying. I know because I watched a TV show about it on Discovery Channel, and they explained it all… but here I go again. I’m sorry. You wanted to know about these last weeks, is that it?

Any recent incident? Well, now that you mentioned it… yes, there has been one. Mr. Whitmore complained of a bad smell. He said he could feel it from inside his apartment and, of course, he blamed Miles for it.

When? Let’s see… I think it was about ten days ago.

What did I do? Well, nothing. I just ignored him, as I always do. What else should I do? I know that Miles smells a little, but I don’t care. He is my friend, right? Besides, it was none of Mr. Whitmore’s business.

What happened then? Well, as the days passed by, Mr. Whitmore didn’t let it go. Instead, he complained more and more. He said that the stench was getting worse, and that he could smell it coming from my apartment. He said it was unbearable, and he was sure it was coming from Miles! He said that if I didn’t get rid of the stench, he would do it himself.

When was that? Do you mean the exact date? I think it was two days ago.

Yes, that was the last time I saw him before this morning, when he broke into my apartment.

What happened? It was very awkward.  I heard a knock at the door, and I opened it. Then Mr. Whitmore just pushed me aside and entered into my apartment. The man seemed possessed!

No, he didn’t say anything, but I knew he was there to take Miles away. I could see it in his eyes. That’s why I took the chandelier and hit him. I couldn’t allow that. I couldn’t let him take Miles away from me. Miles is my best friend, my onlyfriend. Couldn’t Mr. Whitmore understand that? I don’t have anyone else in the world but Miles. He is my cat and I love him! What if he threw a dead rat on the man’s door? I don’t care. What if he smells bad? I don’t care either. And I bet Mr. Whitmore would smell much worse than Miles if he also had been dead for two weeks…

©2010

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