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Latest Stories

March 19, 2024
Fantasy Stories Wondering Monk

Just My Imagination

The alarm clock went off and started playing an awful tune. Tom opened his eyes and closed them back, squinting. He reopened one eye and stood up to stop the torture. The phone was on the desk, in the furthest spot from the bed. Although he changed his way of…
March 19, 2024
Science Fiction Stories Ocelotlzin

Earth Is Dead

Recording… It doesn't matter who I was; I probably lived a long time ago, and I am now just a voice someone added to the audio-visual records. What is essential is the recollection of events that lead to the current state. So, a little history needs to be…
March 08, 2024
Flash Fiction Benoit

Some Enchanted Evening

It was a rugby tackle with tears: Chrissy burst in, sobbing and babbling, hugging James. Her face was all wet, eyes wild. What…? My parents split up, Dad has moved in with his boyfriend and I cannot join them. I am shut out. I have lost my dad. Torrent of…
March 08, 2024
Horror Stories Marvel Chukwudi Pephel

In The Hands Of My Legs

The car pulled up in front of the large salon. The neon sign, that sexy broad thing, on the salon'sroof read "Mr. Gil's All-night Salon". The exhaust pipe of the car was pumping solid smoke, theswirls moving from the car and towards the salon.…
March 07, 2024
Mystery Stories Vanessa Leigh Giles

Casualty of Love in the Time of Coronavirus

Chapter 1 Until Death do us Part ‘Ring, ring!’. I answered the telephone and asked, “Hello, good evening. Who’s this? “Hello.” This is Dr. Smith from Red Cross hospital. “Is this Mr. Locke, John?”, he asked, hesitantly scratching his bald head. “Yes, doctor.…
March 07, 2024
Crime Stories Robert Pook

Bar Room Trigger

Another return journey on footpaths so familiar. He strides across each crack in each paving stone. Regular loose drain covers sidestepped. Mapping long ago mapped in Richard’s desolate mind. His pace hastened by the sight of the oncoming storm. Quickening…
March 04, 2024
Horror Stories Ano Chinemerem

Sanctity

Where should I begin? I could begin by telling you about this comely boy, whom every notable person around the streets agrees his smile could charm the bills off one. Between one smile, there was his goodness, his dreams and humanity—a little far ahead?— but…
March 04, 2024
Flash Fiction Emanuel Diaz

Et Mortui Partium

As Rafael stepped out into the rain, it wasn't the ordinary drops that fell from the sky. Instead, it was a storm of souls, each one taking the form of shimmering jewelry as it cascaded toward the ground. Rubies, diamonds, and sapphires twinkled amidst the…
February 29, 2024
Poetry Jing Li Ava

London

‘Am I in London?’ "I am." Where is Elizabeth? Happy living story All of your chapter Bounlance joy Please my heart Power hand Wise mind Our baby Vow vow Love all love Miss I miss Endless wonder Bring us together Love all love Miss I miss For everything My…
February 29, 2024
Flash Fiction Rob Pook

Life Sentence of The Smith

Born nine months after his country won the World Cup.A child prodigy.Cast off at age twenty-four.Husband, father, emigree, away on the other side of the world.The blue-collar life.The dreams of success.The search for fulfillment.The long years of empty…
February 29, 2024
Mystery Stories Joshua Lowther

The Operator

Jason looked over to his right, his eyes barely able to focus themselves on the subject of his attention. His neck ached terribly from the strenuous movement. He was tired. The captain’s gaze came to rest on the rookie sonar operator sitting tense at his…
February 29, 2024
Flash Fiction Salvatore Difalco

The Chute

At dusk, we left our unit with a soft pink bundle. I carried it through the wet streets and into the black woods. I said I’d take it all the way, the bundle, but that we had to drop it in together. My wife’s green eyes flashed. “Don’t make me do that.” I…

Art and Amy Rollins drove along a desert road in the southwest.  “There’s something serene about the desert.  I love to come here.” Art said.

“It’s beautiful.  Imagine how nice it would be to live here, far from the hustle and bustle of city life.  It’s so quiet and peaceful,” Amy said looking out the window.

“Imagine what it was like here 200 years ago,” Art said. “The cabin my father built is on the Gila River, which is territory that was occupied by the Apaches. They roamed free until the white man came west and settled.  Then the soldiers came to protect the settlers, and that was the beginning of the end of the way of life the Indians enjoyed for hundreds of years. ”

“In the movies, the Apaches are always depicted as wild and violent,” Amy said.

“Well, they were here  before the white man, so they fought to keep their land.  Would you want a family setting up camp in our back yard?”

“I guess I’d have to go on the warpath to make them go away,” Amy said chuckling.

Thirty minutes later, they arrived at the cabin, unloaded supplies, and settled in.  After dinner, they went outside and enjoyed the view of the river and the sunset over the desert.  “ It’s so beautiful here, Art.  The Apaches must have loved their world.”

Tired from the long drive, Art built a fire in the fireplace, and he and Amy turned in early.  They slept soundly until the middle of the night when they were both awakened by unfamiliar sounds. “Did you hear that, Art?” Amy said as she and Art sat up in bed.

“Yeah. It sounded like a…a thunk,” Art said. What would make a thunking sound? There it is again and again,” he said, went to the cabin’s only window and tried to wipe the dirt off the pane of glass the best he could with the palm of his hand and looked out.  “I can’t see anything.   I’m going to take a look outside,” Art said.”

“Art, you can’t go outside without a weapon.  It could be a dangerous animal.”

You’re right. There, the fireplace poker,” he said, picked it up, and swung it in the air a few times. “This should be a good weapon.  There it is again. That thunk. Well, I hope this poker is enough to protect me”, he said, and went to the door.”  He looked back at his wife as he turned the knob.  “Okay, whatever you are, here I come,” he said and slowly opened the door. When it was halfway open, an arrow was shot into the door.  Art slammed the door shut and jumped back to the bed not taking his eyes off the door.  “Amy, the thunk.  It…it was an arrow,” he said shaking.  Both stared at the door.  The minutes that passed seemed like hours.  “Somebody is playing games.  Whoever it is, he, or she is using this cabin for target practice.”

“What are we going to do, Art? We’re prisoners here. If we leave the cabin, we could get killed.”

“We’ll have to wait until sunrise.  Hey, Amy, something’s burning,” he said and they looked at the fireplace.  “Amy, the cabin is on fire.  Come on. We have to get out of here,” he yelled, grabbed her hand, pulled her outside.  “Oh, My God,” he gasped.  In front of them were about a dozen Apaches on horses.  They screamed at Art and Amy in their language and shot several arrows at them, killing them instantly.  As the cabin burned to the ground, the Apaches rode away.

The next morning, Art and Amy awoke earl? “I had a terrible dream last night, Art. I dreamed Apaches attacked the cabin and killed us.

“Jeez, Amy. I had the same dream. How is it possible that we dreamt the same dream? I guess we had the poor Apaches on our  mind. Oh well, let’s take an early morning walk and then we’ll come back and make breakfast,”  They went to the door and Art opened it. “Oh, my God.  Amy, there are arrows in the door and all over the cabin.”

“Look,” he said and walked several feet from the cabin.  Those are prints left by horses, many horses.”

“Our dream, Art , our dream,” Amy said, in a low voice as though she were talking to herself. They looked out over the desert for several minutes.  “Look, Art, in the distance. It’s  huge cloud of dust. Is that a sand storm?”

“Yeah, it…wait, it’s not a sand storm.  Oh, My God, it’s horses, Indians on horses.  It looks like hundreds coming straight at us,” he said and held Amy.  “I love you, Amy,” he said and both closed their eyes as the Indians, whooping and screaming in their language, rode by Art and Amy, shooting arrows at them as they galloped by. They lay on the ground  in each other’s arms, dead. The Indians rode away into the  cloud and they and the cloud disappeared.

 

The End

 

While teaching  communication skills and English at a community college, Mr. Greenblatt wrote short stories, and plays, one of which won a reading at Smith College. Since retiring in 2000, he has written short stories and novellas

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