As she adjusted her white linen cap and carefully smoothed out the Continue reading Spectral Warning by Sonia Kilvington
Tag Archives: genre fiction
Killer Heels by Michael A. Gonzales
Other people’s success always made M. drink way too much. Weaving slightly as he walked across the hard wood floor, he felt each of the three dirty martinis he’d gulped within the hour of arriving at his friend David’s book party. The restaurant was already crowded, and a few folks stood outside in the spring coolness smoking cigarettes and chatting. Years ago, the rowdy bar where he unsteadily stood was he and David’s former hangout spot the Saloon, a place where once the crew of beauty queen waitresses who worked there were required to wear roller skates. M. often journeyed to the restaurant on 64th and Broadway from his Harlem hood to meet dates for Sunday brunch. Continue reading Killer Heels by Michael A. Gonzales
Planet B by Melanie Browne
They lived in the suburbs on Planet B.
In Autumn, the leaves fell.
They were protein-rich, with biosensors.
“All Manner of Hell Breaks Loose” – Ryan Bracha Interview
by Jason Michel
Ryan Bracha‘s writing is not for the faint hearted. I think I can
say that with confidence. His stories are transgressive and smeared with a gallows humour dripping around the chops. He is the best selling author of Strangers Are Just Friends You Haven’t Killed Yet and the Dead Man Trilogy. Take a trip into the darkest corners of his mind as he talks to me about dwarves, ninjas, and his latest supernatural thriller, The Switched, his blackest work yet.
To quote : “It’s basically a look at what would happen if the most fucked up people in the country just inexplicably woke up as one another, with no grasp of the concept of consequence. It’s funny.”
*
What makes Ryan Bracha so bloody special that we should read your precious words? Continue reading “All Manner of Hell Breaks Loose” – Ryan Bracha Interview
Burnt Film by Justin Hawthorne
“For Ethan”
I sat in the back of that bus, chained to the seat like an animal. 25 years to life. I remember the way the words fell out of his lips. He seemed so angry about it. His voice was powerful and biblical and his Continue reading Burnt Film by Justin Hawthorne
WHITE GULL by Richard Godwin
*Reader’s discretion advised! – This tale of caddish skullduggery and murder contains scenes of a particularly violent nature. A strong stomach shall be necessary. You have been warned – your beloved Editor*
I have written this journal for posterity and with the strict intention of disclosing to future historians the identity of the man who became known as Jack the Ripper. The common press, both fallible and corrupt, painted a picture that I will not let remain the final word on the identity of the killer. And while what I am writing here is both a confessional and a narrative account of sorts, it is ultimately a challenge to those who believe they can determine events whose nature lies outside their sphere of experience. Continue reading WHITE GULL by Richard Godwin
Best Buddies, Worst Friends by Bill Tucker
When you’re standing on the edge of a twenty story rooftop, the world below is beautiful.
Back to Ur by Matt Lang
Once upon a time, when there were only a few folks living on Earth, and the Lord God could take the time to address them individually, God spoke to Abraham.
Continue reading Back to Ur by Matt Lang
I TALK TO MY T-SHIRT AT CAFÉ NOSTALGIA by Dr. Mel Waldman
I talk to my T-shirt at Café Nostalgia. It’s quite smart, you see.
Last year, I visited the Neo-T-shirt Corporation. A salesman sold me a customized, computerized smart T-shirt. It contains all the designs of every T-shirt I’ve worn and all the memories associated with all my old T-shirts.
Continue reading I TALK TO MY T-SHIRT AT CAFÉ NOSTALGIA by Dr. Mel Waldman
A Damned Agreement by Jason Beech
“No. I’ll not do it.” The man upstairs almost slammed the door off its hinges.
Peter made more marks on the pen he had been chewing than on the income column in his accounts. He stared at the roaring fire he’d set to welcome his guests. He thought, maybe, it was roaring for his business plan. The man upstairs had stopped playing ball, and now the ghost party tip-toed into Peter’s isolated joint. They chattered about the moonlit frost surrounding his historic inn and eyed dark corners for apparitions. The inn stood desolate on the misty Yorkshire Moors, and the camera-ready guests ooohed and aaahed at the silvery romance and the prospect of a good haunting.
PULP METAL MAGAZINE 