Gold monster cowers in fear in a queer bedroom where elephants once sat. Broken baby crawls toward the cradle Continue reading The Day All the Clocks Stopped at the Same Time By Matthew Dexter
Tag Archives: genre fiction
Reporting by Sally York
After a long day I drive into a shit storm of flashing lights, police barricades and EMTs. I blow a sigh and twirl the wheel.
Life of a reporter, it never ends.
I approach a rosy-cheeked rookie, too dumb to hold back unconfirmed details. The main thing I want to know is if anyone’s dead. We don’t do fender-benders, we follow the grim reaper.
Dining Room Table by Ken Sieben
“So, you were right, Kevin, the nest is empty,” Judy declares, placing a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of me, then pours my coffee, apparently, from her tone and expression, expecting a response.
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A Good Head by Perry Nardone
Nardo walked along the beach and noticed a woman buried in sand. Her long black hair was wet from waves, her face tan from long days in the sun. He approached the buried body, and she spoke, “Hey, hello. Would you move me? The Continue reading A Good Head by Perry Nardone
Doctor, Doctor, Give Me The News by Christina Murphy
I went to see a Doctor of Philosophy to treat my case of Plato-Plotinus.
“How long have you been seeing shadows in caves?” he asked.
“For protracted periods,” I said.
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Wicked Woman’s Booty by Jodi MacArthur
Episode #4 Cook’s Hook and the Ice Metal Dragon
“Hook! Hook! Hook!” cried the crew.
The Bravo Dome by Jane Hammons
He giggles. Removes her oxygen. She thinks he’s replacing it. What really tickles him is that she’s sitting in her wheelchair out in the Kiowa Grasslands on top of the biggest field of carbon dioxide on the whole planet, choking to death because not even one molecule of oxygen wants anything to do with her.
Bio: Jane Hammons teaches writing at UC Berkeley. She has a 25-word story in Hint Fiction: An Anthology of Stories in 25 Words or Fewer (W. W. Norton 2010). Her crime fiction has been recently published in Crimespree Magazine and A Twist of Noir.
The Rise and Fall of the Sockdolagers by Michael Frissore
1997
It all started with a birthday gift my ex-girlfriend gave me. She knew I wanted to get into puppetry, but didn’t understand I meant the marionette kind, like in Being John Malkovich. She actually made me a dozen sock puppets. It was sweet, but I found this type of puppetry to be a bit hack. Still, there was something strange about these things. It didn’t take long. Maybe a couple of days. My friend Josh and I were talking. That’s when it started.
Continue reading The Rise and Fall of the Sockdolagers by Michael Frissore
Michael and the Final Fix by Tom Sheehan
Michael the orderly was seated on a bench, nodding his head, drawing information from Todd, a patient in the long-term care facility.
“I think Marty Vreeland’s in love with Valerie,” Todd said. “He’s crazy hungry, like before. You can’t knock a guy for that. I can’t.”
Michael nodded. “Everybody has to love somebody around here or go nuts. Valerie’s his anchor.”
Todd thought Michael sounded like a professor, often dispensing good advice in the facility. “There’s a new edge to this,” he said. “They want to play around. French or what, I don’t know, but it has to be handled by someone who’s thoughtful.”
The Stalker by David Price
1
I use my nail stick to spear a loose piece of paper, a wrapper from some bag of chips. I put it in the canvas sack slung over my shoulder like the kind old-time paperboys once used to carry their papers.
I work this little pocket park everyday at this time. I wear gray work pants and shirt and laced work boots. I fit right in. I also use a weed whacker to trim the grass border of the sand filled kiddies play lot. Sometimes I use my rake to clean debris from the sand. I always leave it smooth like a Zen garden.
PULP METAL MAGAZINE 