Freedom Fiction Journal An eclectic mix of all flavours of genre fiction

Dead Position by Jenna Calloway

Dead Position by Jenna Calloway The Colonel’s clockwork tarantula unfurled in response to the typed command, then scuttled over the edge of the pit and triggered the game’s pneumatic mechanism. The macabre chess board...

The Golden Pass by Henry Simpson

The Golden Pass by Henry Simpson Daphne had already worked her way into Virginia’s confidence. Displaced Lola in her life. Soon she would convince Virginia to end Lola’s employment contract and evict her from...

The Painter by David MacMillan

The Painter by David MacMillan The humans, they stream through here day after day. They pass by. Past my pen, and the pens of others. It appears that they are fascinated by us, by...

Heart of Gold by Michael B. Brodin

Heart of Gold by Michael B. Brodin Sissy Krawczuk, just shy of her twenty first birthday, was swinging her hips down Santa Monica Boulevard in East L.A. when she stepped in shit. She knew...

Ronnie B’s by Bill Tope

Ronnie B’s by Bill Tope I Halloween, 1982 Shoe stood before the prep table in the kitchen, his huge, gleaming chef’s knife flailing away, chopping the cabbage, peppers, and carrots into a massive mess...

Cascade by Marcel Gabbett

Cascade by Marcel Gabbett            Writers and therapists partake in the perfect symbiotic relationship. Therapists guard writers from the deepest recesses of their hearts; places where, if the writer were to venture, even for...

Perdition Gaze by Mark Stanski

Perdition Gaze by Mark Stanski “Close your eyes until I tell you where to look. The first person you see with your new eyes is vital. We’ve chosen her with care,” said Darkfire. The...

Blood on His Boots by Gary Ives

Blood on His Boots by Gary Ives I am a small person. I yearned to be bigger, and early on realized how a uniform put a person perceptibly larger in the eyes of others....

Valentine’s Day Massacre by Doug Hawley

Valentine’s Day Massacre by Doug Hawley Special Report To Stumptown Magazine by Elmer Jakes February 10, 20xx I was at her bedside when Ginger Smith uttered her last words.  “Why did Ted do this? ...

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...