Georgie in Wintertime by Dan Morey
Georgie in Wintertime by Dan Morey Georgie watched the squirrel through his kitchen window. It raced across a power line, paused briefly, then jumped six feet into an apple tree. “Bravo!” said Georgie. The...
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A Way Away by Louis Philip DelGiacco
A Way Away by Louis Philip DelGiacco I needed a gun to murder my wife. I’d tried everything else. The knife wounds healed within seconds. The shove down three flights of stairs seemed promising...
This Town Called Winsome by Grant Tracey
This Town Called Winsome by Grant Tracey –1– Susan Norget was quiet, lost in shadows. I was worried about her. She arrived by train from Niagara Falls wearing a wool coat with an imitation...
Some Kind of Angel by Austin Roberts
Some Kind of Angel by Austin Roberts The scene was bad. Male. 60’s. And the pavement had played piñata with his body when he landed. It wasn’t my game anymore, the murder scene, but...
The Cover of a Book by Bill Tope
The Cover of a Book by Bill Tope “What are you even doing with this man?” Annie asked of her sister. Karen sighed. Two years younger than her sibling, she was used to being...
The Woman in Flowered Dresses by Barry Yedvobnick
The Woman in Flowered Dresses by Barry Yedvobnick Ben Birk stared at the wall menu with his eyes moving like REM sleep. He wasn’t surprised by the gorgeous Grand Canyon panorama. It was a...
Just What I Needed… by J.D. Fratto
Just What I Needed… by J.D. Fratto I walk in at 7:15: later than usual and Tara’s still not home; not in the kitchen, the TV room, the bedroom; not even the back yard....
Glen by Bill Tope
Glen by Bill Tope “He is drop-dead gorgeous,” remarked an otherwise erudite woman of my acquaintance. Physically, the man was a cross between Jim Morrison and a young Jackson Browne. “He undresses you with...
Cool Load by Wally Runnels
Cool Load by Wally Runnels A black air taxi roared over on its way to JahdFo, a penal colony on Mars. Probably twenty years old and wearing a ragged T-shirt with bushy hair and...
Thursday’s Money by Grant Tracey
Thursday’s Money by Grant Tracey Slipping free would be tough. The ropes weren’t nylon but hemp. Coarse fibers scuffed and cut into the skin of his wrists. Across from him was a woman who...