Word went out that Joe was dead and that he’d bought it in the library. I didn’t want to believe it. Knew I wouldn’t until I’d seen the body with my own eyes. My girl begged me not to go, but being young, quick and dumb I ignored her concerns and took wing. I could handle myself and when the time came I would look Joe’s killer straight in the eye, that being the least I could do for him.
Tag Archives: genre fiction
Oh Superman by Colin Graham
George walked into his local wearing his Superman outfit, the ‘S’ undulating over his man-boobs and beer-gut, and ordered a pint of his favourite brew.
“Fancy dress party?” asked the barman, who was new to the job.
“Na,” replied George. “Just saved a lass from drowning in the lake and blew out a fire at a warehouse all on me own. Got a fight with some aliens who’ve come down to destroy the earth in a bit.”
ASHES TO ASHES by Cindy Rosmus
“You fucked Butcher,” the message said. “Now . . . you die.”
Just like that. From a blocked number, but it was her, all right. Only Stephanie had that voice. That throat full of broken glass. And it was her old man you were fucking.
Were, is right. When things got hot, he split. Even his smell was gone from your rooms, your sheets. You were left with an empty twat, and a pipe bomb in your guts.
Eating The Goo-ies by Jake Berry Ellison Jr.
Working on the principle that things are always worse than you think, Adam ordered another pint and asked the tattooed bartender if he’d heard about it.
“I’ve heard just about everything,” the guy said. He opened the tap on the Manny’s and filled the glass. He placed it on the circular coaster. “What’s it now?”
“Maybe it will be on the news. I don’t want to spoil it.”
Continue reading Eating The Goo-ies by Jake Berry Ellison Jr.
Blessings by Pete Risley
Ain’t saying nothin’, Ronnie tells himself. He jounces anxiously in his seat, breathing through his nose; the bus passes the Rite-Aid on Greenwood. Never did. He never called nobody no nigger, not since that one time in school and got in trouble. Don’t say the n-word. You can’t. But they call white people names. Back in school they did him: Whitey, whiteass motherfucker, pecker, what was it? Peckerwood. Retard special ed white boy, they called him. They were in LD too, but he always was the one they picked on. Not just n-word, white kids Continue reading Blessings by Pete Risley
Wreckage by Shannon Barber
The music was loud. It drowned the sound of the buzzing motor and the surrounding world. Angry little ideas swirled in her head; she accelerated, faster and faster, until her thoughts were suspended in a freefall of speed and noise.
Julie’s cell biology lab would begin in half an hour. I feel like shit, she thought. Debate over.
Going to class was the last thing that she needed right now, anyway. Playing nice with the Stepford students while in the back of her mind she was counting down the minutes to when she would be evicted was not her idea of a relaxing Friday afternoon. She would have to find something to do — a distraction that would numb her.
Kamigoe by Paul McQuade
Kamikado
by Yukio Sakaguchi
translated by Alexander Ewing
Preface
The following is a translation of an article by missing journalist Yukio Sakaguchi, who set off on holiday with his twin daughters four years ago and has not been seen since. It Continue reading Kamigoe by Paul McQuade
Love Letter To David Lynch by Christopher Grant
The cigarette burns down to the knuckles on his right hand. He holds it between the ring and middle fingers. The pointer is fucking gone. Just fucking gone. All the way up to Continue reading Love Letter To David Lynch by Christopher Grant
“Do You Need a Lift?” by Michael Keenaghan
The best time is when the clubs kick out. Charge what you like. You might get people telling you to shove it, but five minutes later they’re back because the other drivers are Continue reading “Do You Need a Lift?” by Michael Keenaghan
Invisible No’s by Meghan Coleman
If you always say yes, then nothing is absolute.
She was sure she’d get away once she boarded the plane, but she never says no: growing more invisible with each concession, less complete with every false surrender…
PULP METAL MAGAZINE 