Tag Archives: genre fiction

Fiction

THE FINAL COUNTDOWN 1… CHINA WHITE IN MASHPEE by Richard Godwin

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1.

WORK.

Elixirs come in many forms, I have found, but there are none as good as a well-executed job. Work: I am tired of all the Murphy Artists, con men lining up on the puke stained sidewalks, all the traders, all the fucking dealers. One thing, just let me make one thing clear. I don’t to scut work. My line is a little different.

Shot my first one aged fifteen, some fat fuck who’d pissed some guys off and they asked me for a dare. Right I’m a button man.   Continue reading THE FINAL COUNTDOWN 1… CHINA WHITE IN MASHPEE by Richard Godwin →

Fiction

THE FINAL COUNTDOWN 2… Because The Night by Paul D. Brazill

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Mark Finney’s footsteps echoed as he walked across the rusty, metal railway bridge. A steely fog was spreading itself across the town and he could no longer see the trains creeping slowly below him. He walked carefully down the steps and paused at the bottom. Smudges of streetlamps trailed off into the distance down Lothian Road. Finney headed off along the cobbled street, past the rows of partially demolished terraced houses that looked like broken teeth.   Continue reading THE FINAL COUNTDOWN 2… Because The Night by Paul D. Brazill →

Fiction

THE FINAL COUNTDOWN 3… HUNTERS By Jeff Dosser

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The only truly positive thing you can say about zombies is they’re terrible at hiding, particularly in the woods, constantly thrashing through the underbrush, stomping through leaves. Then, of course, there’s the continual moaning, especially when they smell living flesh. Continue reading THE FINAL COUNTDOWN 3… HUNTERS By Jeff Dosser →

Fiction

THE FINAL COUNTDOWN… 5… The Master by Dr. Mel Waldman

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In an unfathomable moment of murderous unreality, I shoot the Master. He laughs uproariously. I shoot him again and again and after an interminable fusillade, he falls to the ground. But when I gaze at his crimson body, he disappears. Continue reading THE FINAL COUNTDOWN… 5… The Master by Dr. Mel Waldman →

Fiction

Necro-Dandies By Alex S. Johnson

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Some say a gentleman’s crimes, no matter how well-intended, are permanent. That they affix themselves to his brow, or shine from the skin of his neglected soup, or find some other way to creep about his person and stamp themselves into the mold of his legacy. Continue reading Necro-Dandies By Alex S. Johnson →

Fiction

Blood and Botany by Simon Maltman

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“Pass us the rake Brian, would ya?”

“Two seconds mate… there you go.” Continue reading Blood and Botany by Simon Maltman →

Fiction

Games the Wealthy Play By Walt Giersbach

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Lorraine was a game that Nathan played with great relish.  Not a childish game, but a sport called life.  

First, there were odds.  Odds that her husband, Dexter, wouldn’t discover their affair.  The husband was a tedious vice president at some import company, but he had been a Marine.  Nathan had visions of Dexter walking in at the height of their ecstasy and maiming him in some strange military way. Continue reading Games the Wealthy Play By Walt Giersbach →

Fiction

The Bridge by Simon Maltman

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Part 1

I opened the door into my small and let’s say minimal office at just after half nine that morning. As usual, I had made the short journey on the metro from Chodov to Pancrák, grabbing a take out coffee and the morning papers on the way.

I opened the blinds and sat down at my desk. I leaned back and felt fresh and ready for the day. At that time, we had lived in Prague for about three years and it still felt new and exciting. Continue reading The Bridge by Simon Maltman →

Fiction

The Gouger by Eric Westerlind

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Martin Skyrelli draped a red cloth over the standing mirror in his house because he could not stand to stare at himself any longer, and he had been doing so for days. Before that, less. You’ll recognize his name. No stranger to public sin—Skyrelli was a corporate gouger who’d find small monopolies on life-saving products and charge enormous amounts to the desperate. Continue reading The Gouger by Eric Westerlind →

Fiction

Bingo Night, Part II by Vincent Zandri

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Stan gets out, taps on the door, three distinct times. Continue reading Bingo Night, Part II by Vincent Zandri →