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Latest Stories

March 13, 2025
General Stories Vishesh Panthi

The Powerful Adversary

A very wise master named Shamon lives in Japan. He is well-known for his intelligence and discipline. Shamon teaches kendo and jujutsu, traditional Japanese martial arts, in a small town in Japan. All those who wish to learn kung fu, kendo, or any other art…
March 13, 2025
Romance Stories L Christopher Hennessy

Tomorrow Is A Long Time

Lately, I just don't know. It's a beautiful feeling to be of use to a woman again and when I tell her, " Woman, please… Just let me do many things, " it makes her laugh. It's good to hear and her smile is amazing, too. Why do broken people see a way out…
March 13, 2025
Poetry Paweł Markiewicz

Autumn In The Heart

If you have autumn in your heart, blessed soul,the morning star foretells rain of memories here.Highlights and shadows – an ontological being.I’m curious about your paths, your ethical emotions.If the heart breaks the ice of memory,the heart becomes full of…
March 13, 2025
General Stories Devin D. Householder

Hinge Hookups In A Zombie Apocalypse

A 24-year old hairdresser and a 37-year old divorced English teacher scroll their phones in search of love…whatever that is these days. Kat eyed Jim while she poured his gifted Pinot into her tiny apartment’s only two wine glasses. His profile picture didn’t…
March 13, 2025
Horror Stories Robert Hugh

It's Not What You Think

The two uniformed cops stood by their motorcycles. The alleyway was blocked off while the forensics team did their job. “Do you know what happened?” “A detective told me it’s the killer they’ve been looking for.” “Who’s the other guy?” “No idea.” Nearby a…
March 13, 2025
General Stories Alejandro Casas

Hekate

In the early hours of the morning on the first Monday of the first week of the year 2020, Damian woke up panic-stricken at the sound of air horns blaring through his city. Awakening from the stupor of deep-seated rest, he recounted and pondered the…
March 13, 2025
Flash Fiction Marvel Chukwudi Pephel

Brotherhood Of The Blue Traveling Pants

Stop! Easy. Quiet. Listen. Don't rush. I want to tell you a story that needs you to close your eyes. It's the whole vibe. Trust me. I guess theories are oftentimes over-hyped. And this story could seem like a mathematical asymptote. But effort, sure as hell,…
March 13, 2025
Poetry Paweł Markiewicz

The longing The Pindaric Ode

You – such a dreamery born from Dionysian odes like tender day in Your winds – enchanted butterflies as the Golden Fleece – bewitched in my meek fantasy august paradise lost is thus found and so dreamy You lotus-like butterfly you – above volcanos with…
January 28, 2025
General Stories Marvel Chukwudi Pephel

Old Addictions In New Bottles – A Modern Retelling Of Rip Van Winkle

Mental gymnastics is no fun fair, and Rip Van Winkle had lost his mind. Certainly, It would help here to elucidate on the events that led to his losing his mind. Rip Van Winkle, after some wild tantrums from his wife, had left his home into the rocky fields…
January 28, 2025
Horror Stories Cecilia Kennedy

Photo Album For A Ghost

Wild owls hit my window at night. I have a floodlight on, outside, because someone has followed me home, and between the owls and the nightly invasions, I can’t sleep. A door, slamming shut in my dream, wakes me up because it’s real. I steady myself, breathe…
January 28, 2025
Crime Stories Jason Smith

Cinnamon Pine Cones

“I guess they found him.” Liam thought. He'd been expecting it ever since Ben had died. The city’s finest had turned out in force, the flickering lights lit up his living room. He'd seen the first police car arrive. The police officer had repeatedly knocked…
January 28, 2025
Horror Stories Alejandro Casas

Death

It had long weighed on the child’s consciousness that the illness and malaise of his early years had transformed his parents’ faces. His close brushes with death, both physical and metaphysical, had often reinvigorated his desire to live. Yet constraint,…

Franklin Osmond should not have been frowning at the remains of his breakfast. The half-dozen scrambled eggs had been light and fluffy; the rasher of bacon crisp. The rack of buttered toast had been delicious. But the eight-tiered stack of waffles, though covered with whipped cream and strawberries, were disappointing. They had definitely been frozen, not freshly baked, as was the custom at Kurtz Coffee Shop. The waitress brought his check. “Is everything all right?” Frank considered telling her about the sub-standard waffles, but realized she had nothing to do with the food preparation. He pushed his six-hundred pound bulk out of the chair (chairs, actually; Frank had to use two), paid for his meal, and walked ponderously into the Mall.

 

Frank lowered himself carefully onto a bench to think about his options. He could say something to Mrs. Huxley, the manager. Of course, if this had become Kurtz policy, there was nothing she could do about it. And it might be just a fluke. Perhaps the waffle-maker had broken down. He’d see tomorrow; things might be back to normal. If not, he could substitute pancakes, French toast, an omelet…

 

The one thing he didn’t want to do was find another place to have breakfast. Frank’s meal schedule was very carefully structured: Kurtz at nine o’clock; almost always, essentially, the same breakfast (occasionally sausage links or ham). J.’s Deli at one; three hot corn beef sandwiches and sauerkraut. Then the Sweet Shop for seven or eight sour cream donuts—perhaps an éclair or a few puff pastry cream horns. Dinner was varied. Rib eye steak at The Longhorn; Tony’s for a few plates heaped with spaghetti and at least a dozen or so of their delicious bread sticks; Mom’s Home Cooking for stuffed pork chops, chicken and dumplings, savory beef stew…

 

Thoughts of food stirred Frank’s appetite. He considered getting a caramel sundae at ManyFlavors. Then his eyes fell on the girl.

 

She was small, scarcely over five feet—but perfectly proportioned, like some exquisite figurine. Her silken hair was the colour of moonlight. Her skin was honey and cream and roses. As if feeling his gaze, she turned and looked at Frank with sparkling brown eyes. Her mouth was made for smiles. Incredibly, her rose petals lips curved upward—and she was smiling at him!

 

The earth exploded. Planets crashed into one another. The universe lay in golden, glittering debris at Frank’s feet. He heaved himself off the bench and walked toward this wonder. “I’m not trying to pick you up,” he assured her. “That would be absurd. But I felt compelled to at least speak to you. I’m Franklin Osmond.”

 

Again that earth convulsing, planet shattering smile. “My name is Amber,” she murmured. Her voice was low and sweet. A bird sang in it. Bells tinkled through it. They talked for a few minutes. She was standing in front of Barnes and Noble, so it was natural enough to speak of books. They touched on politics. They both loved movies, although, unable to fit into a seat, he hadn’t been to a theatre in years. At last he said “I’m not asking you for a date. That would be absurd. But each day I have breakfast at nine o’clock at Kurtz Coffee Shop. I’d be delighted if, one morning, you could join me.”

 

“Perhaps I will.” She left him then, with one last golden smile. He watched her graceful progress…leaf in a flowing stream…feather born by the wind…

 

Frank didn’t know if he would ever see her again. But the next morning, as he was breakfasting at Kurtz’s, she sat down across from him, smiling. Earth exploded, planets crashed…

 

Amber didn’t seem surprised at the gargantuan meal spread in front of Frank, but he was suddenly faintly ashamed. She ordered orange juice and a biscuit. Frank felt the sudden possibility of a life not centered around food but a vision of light…

 

They ate in silence for awhile. Then Frank paused in mid-bite. Amber looked up. “Is anything wrong?”

 

“Exactly what happened yesterday,” Frank answered. “These waffles are not fresh but frozen.”

 

Then Amber asked the fateful question, which was to end their relationship before it was born: “What’s the difference?”

 

Frank almost dropped his fork, as her beauty faded before his eyes. The moon silk hair was dry straw; the sparkling eyes flat and dull; the smiling, rosebud lips thinned in a sneer. He could think of nothing to say.

 

Amber finished eating, murmured her thanks, and walked away. Frank knew he would never see her again. He felt no regret. Anyone who didn’t know the difference between fresh and frozen…well… really…

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Frank is well above seven hundred pounds now. He no longer goes out to eat but has two superb chefs: Anselmo and Picard. Occasionally he wonders if his world might have been different. But then Anselmo announces dinner. Frank looks at the standing rib roast surrounded by potatoes and gravy…or the shrimp swimming in garlic butter sauce…the sumptuous Chinese meal of stuffed mushrooms, sweet and sour pork, rich egg drop soup…

 

He sits down and picks up his fork and realizes that life just doesn’t get any better than this.

 

Lela Marie De La Garza has had work published in “Behind Closed Doors”, “Pound of Flash”, and “ChickLit”. She was born in Denver, CO. in 1943 while her father was serving in WWII. She currently resides in San Antonio, TX. with two and a half cats and a visiting raccoon.

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