Like the Flower
Calla will check her arm in the morning. Sober, in a different light, some name she half-invented outside a kitchen with bad tiles. She says her name again. It gets absorbed into the peeling wallpaper.
short story
THE LANDSCAPE HAS ABANDONMENT ISSUES
I am currently wedged in a ventilation duct that is precisely the width of my own optimism—which is to say, significantly narrower than it looked from the floor—arguing with a 17th-century oil painting. A merchant named Cornelius stares at me from across the room with judgmental intensity, while my target, a 1683 Dutch landscape, is suffering from what I can only describe as a four-decade-long case of clinical resignation. I have exactly ninety seconds before the night guard finishes his salt-and-vinegar chips to perform what I call an “unlicensed art therapy intervention” involving a grappling hook and a very expensive scarf. The cow in the painting hasn’t said a word, but we both know the truth. This fluorescent lighting in here is a moral travesty, and I’m the only one crazy enough to stage a rescue.
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The Colors, Oh the Colors
There is a particular quality of light that belongs exclusively to the past. Miriam had come to understand this slowly, the way one comes to understand most important things, which is to say reluctantly, and only after a great deal of unnecessary suffering. The light of memory, she had decided, possessed a warmth that no
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Your Hands On My Insides
Leia once met a girl, and it ruined her life.
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The Devil at Mile Marker Twelve
“They stood there, the two of them, while the jukebox played and the dawn crept closer. The woman at the bar hadn’t moved. The bartender had his hands below the counter, probably on a shotgun, probably not planning to use it either way.”
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In My House Is Where You Should Be
“And maybe that is the final loss. The loss of having someone in your life in a way that is visible and shared. What remains is private. Internal. Yours alone.”
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Polluted Marrow
Lilou wakes up covered in blood. It splatters her cheeks like paint, dripping down her neck like heavy tears.
Hotel California
A swooning rocked through her chest, letting the music course over her skin as she sang along. “You can check in anytime you like, but you can never leave.” Fyrn’s hips swayed as she mumbled the melody. She dove into the malaise of smoke and noise in the dimly lit space, tension dissipating. The heat of her embarrassment faded under the pretense of having a good time, rather than care what her voice sounded like above the murmur of the crowd.
The Latch
Latch Mary jolted awake, breath sharp in her throat. She lay still, waiting for feeling to return to her heavy limbs. For a moment, she couldn’t tell if the pounding she heard was in the walls or inside her own chest. She was on her living room couch, the AC blasting on her face.
The Guest Who Took His Name
Martin doesn’t answer the cabin door anymore. But silence can’t keep the uninvited out.
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All Traces of Propriety
NOTE: This work contains adult themes and adult langauge.
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Steamed Milk
The barista’s hand trembles slightly as she pours the oat milk, creating ripples that disturb the perfect rosetta she’d attempted in Marcus’s latte. He watches intently, notebook open beside his gluten-free muffin, pen poised. Surely there’s something profound in this moment – the way the foam dissolves, perhaps, like the dissolution of dreams in the
Al Jodido no lo Salva Nadie
She was nursing a glass of Chivas like medicine, same way she had when she’d taught him how to doctor the interest rates. Her lips caressed the glass the way they’d caressed him countless times in that corner office…
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The Shadows Between Us
I had never lived with anyone before. The idea of sharing my space was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. When Emma and I decided to move in together, I felt a mix of joy and apprehension. Our new apartment was modest but cozy—a fresh start for both of us. On a lazy Saturday morning, sunlight filtered
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The Pumpkin Spice Monster
I’ve always loved pumpkin spice season. It used to be October, now it’s as early as August. I do this year as I do every year- I grab all the pumpkin spice products I can find since the products would be gone by late November. At the end of the season, I like to stock
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The Midnight Photographer
Claire Kroening’s short story follows Nelle, the owner of a film development shop in the sleepy, coastal town of Blackwood Harbor, as he accepts the job of restoring film from an old camera only to discover that the pictures show a person in each shot—someone, or something, who wasn’t there when they were taken.
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The City’s Hidden Magick
“Gertrude didn’t need to be told twice. Clutching the book to her chest as if it were the most precious thing in the world, she turned and ran out of the room, back down the alley, and into the rain-soaked streets. But now, everything looked different. The neon signs seemed to spell out messages meant only for her. The puddles on the ground reflected impossible landscapes. And in the faces of the passersby, she saw hints of magic and mystery she had never noticed before.”
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Three Little Birds
He could see the constant worry I had on my face about almost everything. He was right, we had been fine, even as the crack in my windshield grew by the day. I don’t know why, but it prompted something in me. Something I’d been meaning to say for a while.
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Under the White Oak Tree
Between you and me – yes, this is a true story and yes, I am “Ashley”. There really was a “Jules”. I had a massive crush on her. We were friends for a lot of my time in “Franklinville”. Happy ending to the story is that we both did end up moving away (and never moved back). I haven’t spoken to her since HS, however. “Jules”, I hope you’re doing well out there! *Author’s Note: I actually found the drawing! Yes, I actually drew her, I know. After taking a picture and uploading it, I made some edits as to preserve the identities of those involved, however.**
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Naples ’98
Naples: where the nights are hot, the whiskey is cold, and Francesco Sarracino’s life is about to go up in flames. Caught between an exhausted wife, a demanding father, and a golden-haired goomar, Francesco thinks he’s got it all figured out. A little nightlife here, a dash of family man there, and voila! The perfect recipe for having his cannoli and eating it too. But when his brilliant plan to escape it all goes south faster than you can say “Mamma mia,” Francesco learns the hard way that in the game of love and duty, sometimes you lose more than just your shirt. Will our hapless hero sail off into the sunset or sink faster than the Titanic? One thing’s for sure: in Naples, happy endings are about as rare as a quiet night at Piazza Bellini.
It’s Turtles All the Way to Phillip
Beyond the far reaches of our cosmos, past our comprehension of the limitations of space, lies the edge of the universe. At that edge, with the weight of all existence, balances perfectly on the back of a turtle. His name is Leonard, and he is quite large. As it would stand to reason, Leonard is […]
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Shadows of Spain
The flickering neon cut through the haze like a jaundiced eye, casting sickly shadows across the café. Leonard Fritz hunched over his third Irish coffee, black as pitch and twice as bitter. This rotting cafe in this decaying Spanish town was a time capsule of broken hopes and spilled blood. Just like home. He closed
Hidden Secrets in a Forgotten Wood
The creek meanders through the woods, a silvery ribbon threading its way between moss-covered stones. I step into its cool embrace, feeling the gentle current tug at my ankles. Each step sends tiny ripples outward, distorting my reflection – a fitting metaphor, perhaps. Summer’s heat presses down, heavy and insistent, but here in the dappled
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A Case That Needs Pursuit
Set in London, England, once a renowned journalist, the inconspicious and meticulous Sophie Saint-Clair now works as a private consultant with the Metropolitan Police Service also know as the London Police. In this first addition to her story, Sophie helps solve ‘The Murder of the Teacher’s Wife’, as well as his neighbour’s case. Sophie questions a witness, Juliet Hopkins on the murder of Pamela Nelson. Whilst questioning her, Sophie couldn’t help, but notice that Juliet’s husband murder might not just be a bulgary went wrong.
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The Blackwood Curse
Detective Liam Walker stood before the crumbling Victorian mansion, a towering edifice of forgotten grandeur now cloaked in a shroud of decay. The Blackwood family had vanished without a trace, and the old house seemed to be the key to unraveling the mystery. An ominous air hung over the property, as if the mansion itself
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The Strawberry Earrings
For years, she wished for something other than gray, but had never known what that was. It was like asking someone that never left the mountains to imagine the sea, impossible to the point of not knowing it was even a possibility.
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The Lover, The Man, and The Sleep Masc.
He’s sitting in those sheets, the same charcoal-colored ones I used to grip in the middle of the night. His head is probably on my pillow: the one that I claimed my first night there because it was just the right balance of firm and soft. It would have helped if he was somewhere foreign, not somewhere I had spent so many nights.
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The Bison and the Butterflies
He places His tattered hat on the bar and licks His lips, licks the hair around His lips, finishes off the second glass of Whiskey, adjusts Himself in the stool. The music is still playing but the cries are not there.
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I Don’t Know Where My Child Is
I am a mother. Something I have always been told is the miracle of life brings beauty and meaning and a fulfillment into this world that is unmatched by any other experience. My response to that claim was, how can it be a miracle if it happens every day?
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Panthers in the Pines
My daddy was a big man, in a different sort of way. He wasn’t particularly tall, a couple of inches under six feet when he had his work boots off. He wasn’t particularly heavy set either. A lifetime of manual labor had given him a body that was rock solid, arms bulging in his sleeves. […]
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A Day in the Life of James Bonny
Bonny’s wife won’t answer her phone. His girlfriend is being suspicious. God only knows the last time he’s seen his kids. What constitutes a bender again? Bonny’s definitely not the one to ask. How exactly can this dude afford a boat? Wait doesn’t he also have an ex-wife? Jeez no wonder strange men are knocking on his door at all hours at the night. I think it might be time to pony up, James Bonny.
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Michelangelo’s Italian Restaurant
Gino and Lonnie are stuck in their car. It’s 1987 and it’s snowing. They’re in New Jersey. Man. Don’t you feel bad for them? I hope they don’t make any bad decisions tonight.
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There is only Google, and Amazon, and Facebook, and Apple, and Exxon, and Pfizer, and Blackrock.
Feeling the soul-crushing weight of the capitalist machine? Tired of trading your humanity for a corner office? Well, you’re in luck! Introducing the “Mad as Hell” Executive Enlightenment Program™! Watch as our unnamed protagonist goes from boardroom yes-man to anti-corporate crusader, all thanks to a eye-opening chat with his woke Gen-Z daughter! With our patented Profit-to-Purpose™ conversion system, you too can learn to prioritize people over profits and stick it to the man, all while keeping your six-figure salary and stock options! Act now and receive a free “I’m a human being, not a spreadsheet!” bumper sticker. Don’t wait until the revolution passes you by – join the “Mad as Hell” movement today!
The Creature in the Corner
In R. Joseph Acosta’s gripping narrative, Joel Portnoy grapples with his inner demons and an unsettling presence that haunts the fringes of his perception. Struggling with loneliness and the search for meaning in a small New England town, Joel’s encounter with a mysterious creature becomes a metaphor for his fight against existential dread.
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The Contexto
Wayne Zooblo has just completed his first mission. Enroute back he encounters a strange purple nebula. What ensures is a strange stay in an even stranger place.
5:01
Arnaud Chien collapsed on the floor of the bathroom stall. The hot tear burned around the edges of his eyes as he felt the hot iron rod twist deeper and deeper into his abdomen. He tried his best to breath but each inhale was irrupted but abrupt gasps. This was the third time this had […]
A Library Farewell
In the quiet sanctuary of a library, Eleanor and Henry forge a bond over shared stories. As life pulls them apart, they make a pact to reunite in five years, a promise that sustains their friendship across distance and time. Their reunion, a testament to enduring connections, reflects the timeless narrative of friendship’s unbreakable ties.
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Whispers between Bites
A short story by Francis C. Sorvino. In an aging Italian restaurant called Angelo’s, Lou and Sasha navigate a tense third date, using playful speculation about fellow diners Tyler and Stephen to ease the mood. Unbeknownst to them, Tyler and Stephen are grappling with a serious relationship crisis, as Tyler confesses feelings for another. Sasha’s attempt to maintain levity with an invented story contrasts sharply with the real, poignant drama unfolding at the next table, highlighting the complexity and unpredictability of human relationships.
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In Defense of the Noise
“In Defense of the Noise” is a captivating short story that delves into the complex dynamics of four friends gathered in a cozy kitchen. On a seemingly ordinary Saturday evening, the air is thick with unspoken thoughts and past reminiscences. As they navigate through awkward silences and forced small talk, an old story about a chance encounter at a bar resurfaces, bringing with it a mix of nostalgia, unresolved tensions, and bitter undertones. The narrative skillfully weaves together themes of change, memory, and the impact of time on relationships, all set against the backdrop of a mundane suburban setting. This story subtly explores the intricate layers of friendship and marriage, leaving the reader reflecting on the unspoken undercurrents that often linger beneath the surface of everyday interactions.
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