Prose

Short Fiction
Richard Barr
For all that is secret will eventually be brought into the open, and everything that is concealed will be brought to light and made known to all. Luke 8:17 There’d been an incident in work and now an investigation were underway. From the...

Short Fiction
Margaret Karmazin
Though Brianna Kinney had always enjoyed a roof over her head and food on the table (too much of that and not always the right kind), she’d often lacked other things that nourish the soul. At twenty-five, she had still never...

Short Fiction
Camillus John
Arseways by Camillus John by Camillus John After Piero Manzoni Since my editor, Priscilla, assigned me this short story,Arseways by Camillus John,to review, I’ve been at a bamboozled loss to critique it without looking like a pretentious and finely plumed cock, excuse the French....

Serial Fiction
Benny Profane
From the ethers of a gin-induced stupor I snap to on my bar-stool perch. Becoming more conscious, I begin to carefully shake off the slow seeping lethargy that is prone to enshroud one when ensconced for too long at a publican’s...

Short Fiction
Louise M. Hart
It was a chill January morning. A stranger approached 11 Allan Poe Close. He stared at the house’s boarded windows and wiped away a tear. Mrs Nopperson, who lived nearby, surveyed the man with puzzlement, for the stranger cast an...

Short Fiction
Eoghan McGrath
Bits of paper and shit build up in the bottom of your pockets. It’s an underappreciated benefit of getting so inebriated you fall asleep with folded up pizza plates in your pants. You wake up the next day, chuck your sweat-greased...

Short Fiction
J.M. Triangle
In July, Elizabeth packed a red suitcase with all the requirements for a weekend away, shut the door on her apartment and walked to the outside of the building. A woman carrying a bouquet of lilies passed her on the steps....

Flash Fiction
Aurora Coppola
It was one of those days, I think everyone has one of those at one stage, don’t they? I just don’t want to go to school today—we have P.E. anyway—he thought in his brain. Andrew, seventeen just going eighteen had his hormones playing...

Serial Fiction
Benny Profane
It might surprise you to find out that the parameters of my terrestrial existence stretch further than the dimensions of my projectionist’s booth. Although I consider my cinephilic den as my true spiritual home, it is incumbent upon me to every now...