Prose

Short Fiction
Jim Meirose
Doctor Sax sat waiting for Stannie with four and a half minutes to go. Idly he sat watching the fast ping-pong game his apprehension regarding this lesson had conjured to distract him. Identical faceless players volleyed the ball super-intensely so that...

Serial Fiction
Bryan Higby and Ricky D. Snyder
Chapter Two Rob Wash removed a joint from between his thick brown lips as he ran one calloused hand through his graying nappy hair watching those two fellas, John Friend and the local DJ cat, Randy Bliss, push...

Short Fiction
Kenneth Nolan
The beginning of April and a hint of good weather had begun to appear. Springtime has arrived I thought to myself and a lightening of the mood struck me. According to all predictions a beautiful summer lay ahead. I felt my...

Short Fiction
David King
When I woke up, she was looking at me. “Let’s do it again,” she said. And we did. When I woke up, she was looking at me. The blades of the fan above us turned slowly in the humid air. “I want you,” she said, soft...

Short Fictiion
Jim Meirose
Math final exams are held at four p.m. Class meeting TTH eleven is assigned module ten. Be prompt. Rise please first. Obey promptly or face punishment. Mental of course; module ten, yes yes yes; memorize this. Immediately memorize this. No don’t...

Serial Fiction
Bryan Higby and Ricky D. Snyder
Prologue The CarLowDen Golf Course sat back in the trees somewhere between Jericho’s Junkyard and Chesterton’s Cemetery. Around these parts we call the cemetery a boneyard. There was a huge real-estate sign dug into the rutty green lawn...

Short Fiction
Jim Meirose
Summer air music drift. What’s that from, where’s it from; it’s saxophone practice must be because it’s slow awkward and halting et cetera it’s from that slanting down sagging apart tiny empty blue house forever; but somehow it something I’ll remember...

Short Story
Augustus Sleeveen
The hen circle graces Francois’ Five Star restaurant at two pm, grey sweatpants and hoodies taking their places among suits and ties. Nobody tells them about the dress code or the specials. The street outside seems to darken as they take...

Serial Fiction
Benny Profane
Tonight the bar is unusually quiet. Apart from myself there are only a couple of regulars who are sitting at a table in the corner of the room. Their sense of disappointment at the lack of people in the bar is...