Tag Archives: genre fiction

Fiction

“A seriously dark place” – PMM Interview with Ryan Bracha

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imageRyan Bracha is a writer known for his transgressive and darkly humourous pieces, where people do nasty things to nasty people.

His latest work, Phoebe Jeebies And The Man Who Annoyed Everybody, is a love story/satirical tale told through the colourful prism of Bracha-Vision.

PMM got in a few words with the man.

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PFatMWAE is, as its title tells us, a book filled to its evil brim with ways of poking fun at the seriousness of fellow humans and their choices to conform to the 9 to 5 life, why did you choose to focus on cultural pranksterism and its way of exposing the hypocrisy and desperation in a bid to enlighten or enrage others? Continue reading “A seriously dark place” – PMM Interview with Ryan Bracha →

Fiction

Yesterday’s Wine by Paul D. Brazill

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Pauline Williams really hadn’t wanted to talk to her brother. Not for a while, anyway. She’d been giving him the cold shoulder recently. She’d had more than enough of Billy’s shenanigans over the years, so she started to ignore his text messages and calls. She’d even unfriended him on Facebook. But when she found out he’d been in an accident, her resolve soon wilted. Family was family, after all. Continue reading Yesterday’s Wine by Paul D. Brazill →

Fiction

The Abyss by Lisa Ciarfella

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Father Trevor rolled the rosary beads round in his hand for the twentieth time in the last twelve minutes. He knew exactly how long it had been, since the hands on the old wooden clock hanging just overhead ticked down loud, extra noisy, reminding him. He could see that both the hands and the digits had been painted on the clock’s face years ago, bold and dark green, against a pale cream colored backdrop, making them hard to miss. Under the ancient timepiece sat the calendar with the day’s date circled in red; December 31, 1949. Continue reading The Abyss by Lisa Ciarfella →

Fiction

ALCATRAZ FETISH by Richard Godwin

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It was an ugly petit bourgeois house in a suburb of Paris, noteworthy only for its   proximity to the dump where Marie Antoinette assumed unreal dignities. Bruno Quelcon was the second son of a tedious and mannerless man who lounged around in detective overcoats, dreaming of being a matinee idol, whereas in fact his looks were singularly unremarkable. His wife was a neurotic French bitch who alternated between moaning about food and screaming at her family. The other son, Olivier was a kleptomaniac liar.  Perhaps Mr Quelcon had a mistress. But his wife Marie only ever moaned when out of the bedroom. Continue reading ALCATRAZ FETISH by Richard Godwin →

Fiction

Chelsea Girls by Paul D. Brazill

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Chloe left the money and took the guns. She couldn’t carry everything and she knew that cash would be a hell of a lot easier to come by than a couple of AK47s that was for sure. Continue reading Chelsea Girls by Paul D. Brazill →

Fiction

THE CRIMSON ROOM AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS By Dr. Mel Waldman

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After dark, I’ll return to the crimson room at the top of the stairs, my tiny home in the seedy part of town, where the junkies and alkies O.D. on a cornucopia of poisons and feast on freaky visions. But in the early morning or afternoon, I sit in Eros Park and count the myriad objects of beauty. Some mornings, I come to the park about an hour before dawn. I wait for the light, the crepuscular insects, and a glorious, gold sunrise. I take a few deep breaths, close my eyes, and listen to the holy rhythm that soothes me, and imagine I’m floating in a sun-baked ocean or lying in the hot iridescent sand on a pristine beach below a tropical sun. And I listen to the melodious ebb and flow of the turquoise waves. Continue reading THE CRIMSON ROOM AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS By Dr. Mel Waldman →

Fiction

Blizzard of Ought-not by Guinotte Wise

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This is conjecture, but
The crane was there, of that I’m sure.
The sand hills. Nebraska.
His feathers ruffled as he was facing south
and the northwest wind was a little stiffer than
yesterday, and it got some head gears moving
some atavistic cuckoo clock so he
quit fishing and did that liftoff you just
wouldn’t bet money on, headed south.

Continue reading Blizzard of Ought-not by Guinotte Wise →

Fiction

Hot Air by William E. Wallace

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Nicky Dolman came out of the men’s room at the Blue Door Lounge wiping his hands on his pant legs.

Continue reading Hot Air by William E. Wallace →

Fiction

A Mister and his Destiny by Bobby D. Lux

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I parked my car three blocks away on Fern under a street light. My OCD kicked in and I rechecked the glove box and under the center armrest. Both were still empty because I cleared them out two hours ago. Sometimes you have to proof even your own work. I felt under the rear wheel well and the tracker was nice and secure. Continue reading A Mister and his Destiny by Bobby D. Lux →

Fiction

Paranoid by Sonia Kilvington

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They would lay in wait outside of the shops at the mall in the afternoons. I would catch threatening glimpses of their vivid orange robes as they lingered in shady doorways, waiting for an opportunity to lure me away. I was already on their radar and I’m not sure how I got there. Maybe it was something to do with the weird phone calls; disembodied voices would ask for me using my name, Frank, and then refuse to speak. It felt as though they were trying to bait me, waiting for me to reveal myself to them, through my fear. Continue reading Paranoid by Sonia Kilvington →