Prose

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...

Short Fiction
Jonathan Darren Garcia
Rosemary Journal #1 4/Virgo/2009 . I tried to kill myself. Still, I lay here like a rigid stone etched with scars and without pulse. It’s been rough getting that out, even on here. It was a moment of weakness on my part. I...

Short Fiction
Patrick Karl Curley
Staring out the window, Sebastian saw the brash, orange sun of early morning set fire to the tails of trailing clouds. He saw three quarrelling grackles swirling downward to the scorched ground; the tortured, singed grass; the ragged reeds and...

Serial Fiction
Bryan Higby and Ricky D. Snyder
Chapter Four Miles Schakowsky was punching the clock, about an hour and a half late, at The CarLowDen Animal Control Department when he heard the telephone ring in the front office. That asshole Bernie had probably skipped out...

Short Fiction
Jim Meirose
I’ll tell you the story, Doc—I only want dimes. I like the way dimes feel in my hand and I like the way they look. There’s no reason to carry any other kind of coin. I can’t help it Doctor. I...

Short Fiction
David King
You get a preview of what’s to come. If you were alone, you’d be sitting in a tiny little Housing Commission flat in the Park Street Towers South Melbourne looking down over the street with some race caller gunning for vocal...

Short Fiction
Jacob Ian DeCoursey
By the fifteenth month, the whole damn state had grown so thirsty the ground seemed to drink the sap of its own trees. Those of us who remember admit to speaking of rain the way some Christians speak of the...

Short Fiction
Gary Grace
So Five Card is my favourite game to play. This is mainly because I don’t have the patience for hold’em. There’s too much waffling and waiting. The flop, the turn and the river makes me want to drown in one. That...