The Scum Gentry Prose Desk

Bonswa, Saint-Jean

Bonswa, Saint-Jean

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 flies and crow feathers caught on tangles of rusty, broken barbed wire which came away from a fence-post and down in a fractured spiral to the cracked soil. It had been dry for several weeks, but it would surely rain today. An arabesque of emotion uncurled inside him when he thought of that delicate, happy face and those smiling, azure eyes. The scent of her skin was still upon him. He wanted to thank her ...
Read More
Dumpster RabbittZ – Part Five

Dumpster RabbittZ – Part Five

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 at four. Asshole, Miles thought, but then again, he was over an hour and a half late himself, and Bernie’s shift did end at four. He checked the heat on the front office coffee pot, still hot, but probably as strong and thick as tar, Miles thought. Okay that was fine with him since he needed the early morning wake-me-up anyway. Miles wasn’t as young as he used to be. Pushing fifty with a ...
Read More
Only Dimes

Only Dimes

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 like dimes. Quarters are too big. They’re heavy in the hand. They’re big and they’re gross and I want nothing to do with them. Pennies aren’t worth anything. What can you buy with a penny but a one cent stamp? I’m hung up on money Doctor. All I can think about are coins. Nickels. Never thought much of nickels either. And dollars—just think, they used to make silver dollars, all heavy and gross. Nothing beats ...
Read More
Requiem for an Unmade Film

Requiem for an Unmade Film

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 orgasm as an old dreck in an ex-Army greatcoat staggers down the street toward the traffic lights, and just as the caller hits the climax and some horse goes past the finish line and it’s all over again until next time folks, the old dreck reaches the lights and keels over. Slow-ly. And the traffic just keeps on going up and down the street with the old dreck lying there and the race caller gasping ...
Read More
Before the Flood

Before the Flood

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 apocalypse, so that in every town it seemed there was someone pointing out signs of the times. Dead fish lay rotting at the pebbled bottoms of shrunken streams. Nightly, stroboscopic heat lightning, like war in heaven, would herald strange distant fires. Behind the hills, rising smoke mixed with the ever-pregnant clouds so that the throbbing firmament seemed to cry out in agony of its pangs. Even the Big Lake seemed much depleted, revealing the ghoulish ...
Read More
The King is Dead, Long Live the Queen

The King is Dead, Long Live the Queen

Short Fiction
Richard Barr
I’d met her at a Bonnie Tyler Tribute Night and I’d given her my number on that night, too. But I didn’t remember doing that, giving her my number, not till she texted me out of the blue the next day. And that was because, me not remembering I’d met this person, nor given her my number, that was because, I’d got that drunk on my G and Ts belting out all Ms Tyler’s hits, partaking in the Bonnie Tyler Tribute Night, that had a ten tonne elephant fallen through the ceiling during those overwrought proceedings, I wouldn’t have been able to recall it the next day, not one detail of it, were you to have ...
Read More
Queen of Hearts

Queen of Hearts

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 and it’s hard to stay sober when the games go all night. At least with my mates they do. I like Five Card because it’s easy to play even with just two people. It’s intimate. That’s how I got to know Sofia. See hands go really quickly and it’s all about reads and getting to know the other person’s tells, their habits. You can tell a lot about someone in a game of Five Card ...
Read More
Dumpster RabbittZ – Part Four

Dumpster RabbittZ – Part Four

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 at four. Asshole, Miles thought, but then again, he was over an hour and a half late himself, and Bernie’s shift did end at four. He checked the heat on the front office coffee pot, still hot, but probably as strong and thick as tar, Miles thought. Okay that was fine with him since he needed the early morning wake-me-up anyway. Miles wasn’t as young as he used to be. Pushing fifty with a ...
Read More
Loading...

Stalk us through the Mind-Farms of Social Media...

Or Check Out These Links!