Any Other Day by Mark F. Geatches
Any Other Day by Mark F. Geatches It was the last week of my wife Marge’s life. No, there was no terminal illness, no degenerative disease, no premonition, not even the threat of suicide....
Fiction
The Grey Smudge by David Sweeney
The Grey Smudge by David Sweeney 1 I’ve learned two things in the last three weeks. I find that even as I write this now I can hardly believe that it has only been...
Miracle Baby by M E Johnson
Miracle Baby by M. E. Johnson I woke up trying to scream. The dream was so real. I wanted everything to shut off; I wanted to split my lungs, to kill myself screaming. But...
The Last Delivery by Alexander Schuhr
The Last Delivery by Alexander Schuhr The cruel equatorial sun hit the corrugated iron roofs in the matitis of Libreville (Gabon), turning the huts into suffocating tombs. Hidden in a valley, away from the...
One for the Road By Patrick Ritter
One for the Road By Patrick Ritter Sonya’s young face was an odd mixture of compassion and formality. “Are you dissatisfied with life them, Astrov?” she asked across the small table set for tea....
Slaves to the Grind by Joe Prosit
Slaves to the Grind by Joe Prosit Perfect coffee doesn’t happen by accident. It takes fresh grounds, good equipment, and attention to detail. When I arrived at work that Monday, I had the equipment...
The Friendship by Clive Aaron Gill
The Friendship by Clive Aaron Gill Keith, a balding, bearded man, stood at the front door of the redbrick and limestone townhouse on 5th Avenue in Manhattan. “Is Steve here?” Keith asked. “And who...
A Two Piano Town by River Hollins
A Two Piano Town by River Hollins With the new railroad had come painted whores and a fancy piano, and Brother Jed was not going to waste his opportunities. So far, the town of...
Keziah’s Knife by River Hollins
Keziah’s Knife by River Hollins April 1876 Canaan, Goshen Territory (American South West). It was past midnight, and Gideon Holbrooke was at his prayers. He glanced down at the shotgun across his lap. The...
A-hab by Edd B. Jennings
A-hab by Edd B. Jennings The path to my fixed purpose is laid with iron rails whereon my soul is grooved to run.—Moby Dick (chapter 37) Damn, she was hot, which was why I...