The Painter by David MacMillan
The Painter by David MacMillan The humans, they stream through here day after day. They pass by. Past my pen, and the pens of others. It appears that they are fascinated by us, by...
Vol 15
Heart of Gold by Michael B. Brodin
Heart of Gold by Michael B. Brodin Sissy Krawczuk, just shy of her twenty first birthday, was swinging her hips down Santa Monica Boulevard in East L.A. when she stepped in shit. She knew...
Ronnie B’s by Bill Tope
Ronnie B’s by Bill Tope I Halloween, 1982 Shoe stood before the prep table in the kitchen, his huge, gleaming chef’s knife flailing away, chopping the cabbage, peppers, and carrots into a massive mess...
Cascade by Marcel Gabbett
Cascade by Marcel Gabbett Writers and therapists partake in the perfect symbiotic relationship. Therapists guard writers from the deepest recesses of their hearts; places where, if the writer were to venture, even for...
Perdition Gaze by Mark Stanski
Perdition Gaze by Mark Stanski “Close your eyes until I tell you where to look. The first person you see with your new eyes is vital. We’ve chosen her with care,” said Darkfire. The...
Blood on His Boots by Gary Ives
Blood on His Boots by Gary Ives I am a small person. I yearned to be bigger, and early on realized how a uniform put a person perceptibly larger in the eyes of others....
Valentine’s Day Massacre by Doug Hawley
Valentine’s Day Massacre by Doug Hawley Special Report To Stumptown Magazine by Elmer Jakes February 10, 20xx I was at her bedside when Ginger Smith uttered her last words. “Why did Ted do this? ...
Thursday’s Money by Grant Tracey
Thursday’s Money by Grant Tracey Slipping free would be tough. The ropes weren’t nylon but hemp. Coarse fibers scuffed and cut into the skin of his wrists. Across from him was a woman who...
The Tobias Problem by Allister Nelson
Editor’s Note: This short story is a work of fiction. The views expressed in this fiction are solely of its author. This fiction does not reflect nor represent the views, beliefs and opinions of...
Angel by Leonard Henry Scott
Angel by Leonard Henry Scott The curtains moved. Sometimes deep in the center of night, in the grim smothering darkness of a closed and curtained room, the eyes play tricks. There had been...