Prose

Short Fiction
Benny Carr
The old guard sit on benches at the back of the room rocking back and forth like warped old grandfather clocks as they neck pints of whiskey and blast off to distant planes. The young mohawks buck like wild horses on...

Short Fiction
Druther Monkard
I believe that over time, stories become truths. Original realities confused and mainly removed. Hyped and transformed into more fantastical versions and forms, the more times they are spun. I’m guilty of this too, turning the most embarrassing things I have done, where...

Short Fiction
Jim Meirose
Cassie Bash told me that on vacation she and hers were in the town square, out Bath England, we think, milling the small square outside the roman show. Eh okay, but we’re just about there. Hold it, slow down—I got to watch...

Flash Fiction
Mark McConville
Rampant murder scenes and dreams flood her mind. The clock is ticking, which is a sickening sound like that sound when you hear your heartbeat through the pillow at night. She’s writing down her feelings of despair on crisp white paper....

Short Fiction
Peter Tammer
When she awoke that bright and sparkling morning Beauty knew it was D-Day. She was in the foulest of moods. She wanted to scream. She wanted to swear. She had never sworn in her life before this day and now she...

Serial Fiction
Bryan Higby and Ricky D. Snyder
Chapter Six We didn’t know it then but a whole world of nightmares was about to be unleashed on our small town of CarLowDen. When I opened my eyes lying on the cot in the police station holding...

Short Fiction
Scott J. Moses
Ezekiel stared over the stillness of the Mexican desert, gun smoke and smelted-iron thick on the cool air. He pressed himself against the dilapidated boards of the shanty and looked to his uncle, who crouched, revolver drawn, peaking around the...

Short Fiction
Jenny Butler
The unmistakable stench of death drew the flies. The contrast was striking, black fly bodies swarming around light pink plastic rollers in a mass of bloodied hair. Blowflies laid their eggs in the woman’s eyes and mouth in the limited fly-knowledge...

Short Fiction
Jonah Howell
After a long struggle which left small red indentations in most of the fingers on his right hand, Abe wrenched the keyring from the pocket of his Wranglers, shook out some unidentifiable dust and stray tobacco shavings, untangled the floppy rubber...