Stories

  • Last Supper

    by Samson Stormcrow Hayes

    I stare down from my perch and think about suicide for the thirtieth time today, but I can’t do it. If the five story fall doesn’t kill me, I don’t want to be at the mercy of the hoard.

    I snap open another soda and stare at the horizon as a rainbow forms through the distant rain clouds. It’s beautiful. Then I look down at the writhing ground beneath me and I want to vomit. They crawl over themselves, crushing those at the bottom as they try to reach me. Each day the pile gets a little higher.

    (more…)

  • Hot Water

    by Jill Hand

    There was no hot water when I went to take a shower this morning. Oh great, I thought. It’s always something. I went down to the basement to see if I could figure out what was wrong with the water heater and right away I saw what was causing the problem: the dragon was dead.

    (more…)

  • A Perfect Time of Life

    by Regina Clarke

    “I want to be young forever,” Deirdre announced to the Decider, when her turn to enter the room finally came.

    He looked up from his terminal but finished tapping a few more keys before giving her his full attention.

    “Yes, that’s what we usually hear,” he said in a flat voice. She thought she detected some sarcasm, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t there to enjoy his personality.

    (more…)

  • Scars

    by Esther Davis

    Every scar tells a story.

    Dark webbing still marks my shoulder from the day that bullets separated my squad from our company. The bleeding would’ve killed me if my comrades hadn’t bandaged it. But isolated from medical equipment, we couldn’t stop the scarring.

    After days of wandering the Amazon I tripped, leaving a white slice across my stomach. A dumb wound. Not from a heroic battle with enemy soldiers or fleeing some hungry beast. I just got tired, so I fell.

    Then came the jagged blossom encasing my thigh. Forever a vengeful red, as if still burning after all these years.

    Some stories I’d rather forget. (more…)

  • A Perfect Life

    by Joseph Rubas

    Bill Wexler woke at six, as he did every morning, and kissed his wife.

    “I’m going for a run,” he said.

    She didn’t reply.

    (more…)

  • Conscience

    by T. Gene Davis

    “Nothing says good morning, Monday, like a cup of boiling hot cocoa with crunchy marshmallows.” Joshua spoke between gentle slurps. He sat on an ice-cold concrete bench wrapped in layers of coats and sweaters, accessorized by a scarf and tie.

    Lucy examined Joshua’s perpetual scowl for any hint of humor. Steam drifted off the cup warming his hands. She rewrapped her scarf for the hundredth time and resumed pacing in an attempt to keep warm.

    “Joshua, I never know when you’re being serious.”

    He sipped his cocoa audibly crunching down on a marshmallow and almost managed a smile, but reverted back to pure scowl as his gaze fell on the concrete chess tables across the park. The tables started filling this time of the morning, and stayed somewhat full most daylight hours.

    “Our murderer is here.”

    (more…)

  • Mesmerist

    by T. Gene Davis

    He leaned in, intruding on her personal space in a familiar way she only allowed her mentor. Lucy felt his words as heated breath on one ear more than she heard them.

    “Be evasive.”

    His lips and breath withdrew, leaving her questioning his intensions. They stood on an empty tube platform. No cars. Above, concrete and countless feet of dirt. Below, rails in a six-foot deep pit.

    She put a hand on her stomach to settle it.

    (more…)

  • Geese Fly

    by T. Gene Davis

    Gary ducked into the pressure suit locker pulling it shut behind him. The stench of sweat and disinfectant pushed him back against the locker door. He shoved himself into the claustrophobic space at the back of the locker’s rack where a third suit normally hung.

    His rapid heart beat made him shake. If any of the officers saw him, he’d be scrubbing urinals with his tooth brush, or worse. He just couldn’t do the drills today. Not today. They were dropping tomorrow and he needed alone time.

    Gary slumped down in the dark as much as the cramped locker allowed. His back pressed against one wall with his knees painfully jamming the locker wall in front of him.

    “It won’t be that bad when they shut off grav,” Gary reminded himself in a mutter.

    (more…)

  • Airi

    by T. Gene Davis

    Andy sat on the edge of his bed, hands cuffed behind him. Uniformed police finished carrying the last folders out of Andy’s apartment. His computer, all the contents of his filing cabinet, and even his checkbook left with the last of the uniformed officers.

    A suit-clad detective made one last sweep of the apartment. He spotted the phone sitting in its cradle by Andy’s bed.

    “Almost forgot your phone.” He grinned at Andy. “Not that we need it after what we found on your computer.”

    (more…)

  • Two by Two

    by H.L. Fullerton

    “Marcus?” his caseworker said, her hands folded on Mama’s kitchen table. “Did something happen to your sneaker?”

    Marcus looked down at his size thirteen feet—two shoes, one old, one new. “No ma’am.”

    “Why don’t they match?” She didn’t understand that matches weren’t the same as pairs. Daddy never told her about arks.

    “They’re opposites,” he said. Daddy explained it better because he had more words. That was okay. Marcus was better at pairing.

    “Like your socks?”

    One foot, two foot, red foot, blue foot. Marcus smiled and nodded. “You and me, we’re opposites, too.”

    “I guess we are. Is your father still spending all his time at the hospital?”

    (more…)