Monthly Archives: August 2010

Fiction

The Wild Beast by Melanie Browne

8 Comments

Tracy placed two frosted Mugs of beer in the Freezer. She was expecting her boyfriend at any minute.

She glanced in the mirror and touched up her make-up.  He called at around ten o’clock to tell her he wasn’t feeling well and needed to cancel.

Tracy was tired anyway, so she chalked it up to bad timing.

She reached into the freezer to pull out the mugs but to her surprise they were no longer sitting there on top of her Lean Cuisine dinners. “That’s odd,” she said out loud. She looked in the refrigerator. They weren’t there either. Now she was starting to get really spooked. They weren’t on the counter. They weren’t even in the dishwasher.  She felt uneasy but decided to let her fears go because she was tired and had a busy day tomorrow cooking for out-of-town guests. She walked into her bedroom and unbuttoned her blouse, pulling a comfy t-shirt Continue reading The Wild Beast by Melanie Browne →

Fiction

Cold By Ian Ayris

11 Comments

Jonathan Sideboard trudged up the garden path, through the snow, to the front door of his house. The funeral had gone well. Well enough, it had to be said. His late father, Ernest Sideboard, eighty-four, was six foot below ground. Six whole feet separating him from the surface of the earth. From Jonathan. And a funeral couldn’t go Continue reading Cold By Ian Ayris →

Fiction

Where Are the Assassins? by U.V.Ray

14 Comments

I trace the outline of Elena’s face, running my fingertip down her delicate nose and along her slim jaw line. She is young and the texture of her skin flawless, like a pebble on the beach made smooth by the sea. She has not a single line or a scar or blemish, except for the pretty freckles speckling her cheeks. She is the colour of coffee and cream. Her sleeping head with its auburn hair cascading like a waterfall on the pillow next to me; she is truly the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I like watching Elena as she sleeps. Sometimes when I can’t sleep I lie listening to the soft rhythm of her breathing; attuning my own with hers, until I begin to drift off.

Continue reading Where Are the Assassins? by U.V.Ray →