Dick Phucks By Cody Walzel
Dick Phucks By Cody Walzel On weekdays I stare into the fluorescent lights at work and soak my shirt with rage sweat. I burn with an irrational hatred for my new employee. It’s not...
Fiction
Dopamine by H. Talichi
Dopamine by H. Talichi To most people, this room of mirrors and screens would be perfect. But I, who was until recently very much a member of that caste, find it newly repulsive. I...
Freedom Trail by James A. Tweedie
Freedom Trail by James A. Tweedie Historical Note: For three years, from 1858-1861, the Butterfield Trail served as the southern route for stage and mail service to California. The route ran southwest from St....
Taken by Margaret Karmazin
Taken by Margaret Karmazin It’s hard to figure out how old I am. There were the sixteen Earth years of my childhood, then the shorter length years on Valahar, followed by even shorter ones...
The Garnering by Dylan T. Bosworth
The Garnering by Dylan T. Bosworth Just after dawn, the clock chimed for six in the morning, and my knees and back were already screaming. My livelihood was on the line, though, so an...
Farther Outfield by Bretton Cadigan
Farther Outfield by Bretton Cadigan The team decided to go to the grave as a bonding trip. Well, Otto decided it. He’s the team captain after all. A few of them had never seen...
Byard’s Leap by Steven James Foreman
Byard’s Leap by Steven James Foreman Since its creation, in the year 1801, the company of Sowerby’s and Sons has been one of the leading auctioneering houses in London. In 1891, when my tale...
Arcadium by Noam Rabinovitch
Arcadium by Noam Rabinovitch The afternoon sun dipped lazily in the west, its dazzling rays playing peek-a-boo through the tall treetops; at times bright and at others diffused, all according to the gentle April...
Bag Lunch by James C. Clar
Editor’s Note: Read the previous adventures of the two Hawaii Police Detectives by clicking the link:“Pillow Talk”,“Beggars Would Ride” and“The Way The Cookie Crumbles” * Bag Lunch by James C. Clar “Tell us again...
First Prize by James C. Clar
First Prize by James C. Clar It had been three years, 1,095 days exactly. Stan remembered it like it was yesterday. The young hospice nurse looked on with sympathy and more than a little...