A terrible eavesdropper
fiction by Glynis Scrivens When Kari saw her daughter’s face, she knew something had to be done. And quickly. Otherwise she’d lose her. Alice had tried to conceal the bruise with makeup but it...
Category: Fiction
The Bicycle Thief
fiction by James Blakey No milk in the fridge, nor much of anything else. Meant to hit the store yesterday, but stayed late grading papers. Afterwards, a bunch of us TAs gathered at Stuffy’s...
The Bird’s Word
fiction by M.E. Bakos At the funeral, I gazed at my poor deceased Astrid as she lay in her casket and remembered how she often spoke of her successful ex-husband. “Bjorn was a good...
A Gator We Should Turn to Be
Fiction by David Busboom Was it only today the Witch turned up in Jacksonville to weave a net she thought could hold us? Late that morning—this morning—we took Elaine—the name she gave—on the boat...
Mr. Nilsson’s Kjempehytte
fiction by Michael Dolan Before I saw the backhoe, I never would have imagined such a level of destruction. The 14,000-pound piece of machinery had been pulverized—as little as two feet tall in some...
Replacement Guarantee
fiction by Leif Gregersen The sun beat down hard on Eb Johansen’s back as he thrust his shovel into the hard earth, kicking it down with his foot and filling it and tossing the...
Weekend Warrior
fiction by Tyler Omichinski The rain sounded like the static that used to be on the television stations without a signal as it pounded upon the roofs that surrounded him. He shook his head...
Family Matters
fiction by Glynis Scrivens I didn’t really expect Anne to go through with it. It’s one thing to talk about killing your husband. Quite another to do it. There’s no doubt he had it...
Monet for Nothing
fiction by Lee Hammerschmidt “Cripes, Rook,” Boggs said. “What the hell did you paint this with anyway? A six-inch house-painting brush and a roller? Jeez, you call yourself a forger and you bring me...
The Midnight Witch Goes West
fiction by David Busboom I’m listening to the Beatles in Camden, New Jersey in 1969. I have a small record player. It’s The Beatles’ Second Album. I live alone, and tonight I’m slowly drinking...
