I fear the dawn. The night and its soothing darkness are my cocoon. They protect me from an unknown danger. But when the crepuscular insects and I rise with the savage light of dawn, my fragile heart begins to pound. Thump! Thump! Thump! The pounding gets louder and faster. Soon, my hands tremble and my shattered soul case-my mortal shell of flesh-shakes uncontrollably. I fear I will die! I pop a couple pills to calm my nerves. I black out. Continue reading I FEAR THE DAWN by Dr. Mel Waldman
One of the best pieces of advice that anyone gave me at that time, came from a Moldovan hooker. Continue reading TATTOOED EYEBROWS by Richard Godwin.
Pancho killed the bulls with flair. Continue reading The Matador by Catfish McDaris
“I want them gone. That’s the only way you’ll get her back.” Continue reading Three For One by Sean O’Grady
LeRoi always got pissed if you called him LEE-roy like some of the homeys do. “It’s Le-ROI,” he’d shout like you were deaf. “You talkin to the king!” Continue reading Once and Future King of the Projects by Walter Giersbach
The light from the full moon guided her way as Sister Lara walked down Roseberry Hill using her father’s rifle as a walking stick. Lara’s Day-Glo Dr Martin boots gripped the slippery, muddy surface. Her nun’s habit flapped in the night wind like a bat’s wings. Continue reading Nun With A Gun by Paul D. Brazill
It was two and one quarter hours into Hawaiian Shirt Day when it became clear that Margaret needed to die.
I could remember well the last time I had seen this place – the centuries old farmhouse with its still peeling paint and a roof that now seemed more moss than slate. I had been seventeen years old, my meagre possessions in the trunk of a long forgotten boyfriend’s car, tears and badly applied makeup running down my cheeks, and an ironclad determination to never again set eye on any member of my family. Continue reading Family By Mark Cowling
The night hung heavy over old St.Louis, like the pregnant clouds that promised rain. Across the street, the rhythmic flashes of the Ambassador Theater’s marquis shouted their challenges to the darkness as yellow cabs swallowed up the lines of cheap, double breasted suits and faux fox stoles leaving the show. Soon only the crumbs were left. Those too cheap or too poor for the taxi ride home.
Kelly was troubled by her philosophy professor’s digression into the field of theoretical physics. While he was totally out of his depth on that subject, she was more upset by the random thoughts careening just under the surface of her own consciousness. The professor was touching on points that had been bothering her for a week. She hoped he would wrap up his pointless diatribe soon. She had to use the restroom.
What Doctor Magnus was so inarticulately poking at, was the idea of alternate, simultaneous realities, or universes. Do they exist? And if so, do they sometimes intersect with each other? These time-streams, as he called them, might allow a member of one stream to slide over briefly to another, dimension jumping so to speak. Magnus posited that perhaps these slides could be permanent, which might explain the propensity for false memories that seemed to carry over from one stream to the next. Magnus cited the common, random memories reported by thousands of disparate people as evidence of this. They were rich in identical detail. That they were shared by people who had never met, or had any contact whatsoever not only gave one pause, it pinned the needle to the right on the creepiness meter. Continue reading The Mandela Effect by Michael O’Keefe