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Latest Stories

November 18, 2025
Mystery Stories Kanwar P. S. Plaha

When The Time Is Right

Ferguson, with his thinning hair, a crooked nose, and a vipe in his mouth that gave him a sleuth-y look, was staring at the holographic, virtual screen. Seven poker-faced suspects stared back at him. His assignment was simple. Find the time-travelling…
November 18, 2025
Science Fiction Stories L Christopher Hennessy

The Report On Carter

We do not name ourselves. We do not speak. We do not feel. We record. Protocol 9 was initiated on Sol-3, Sector 7, following anomalous emotional emissions from a carbon-based bipedal entity designated Carter. Subject exhibited high concentrations of grief,…
November 18, 2025
Horror Stories Thomas Wetzel

The Janitor And The Machine

The first time I used the machine nothing really happened at first. I just stepped out of the pod a minute or so after the lights shut down and everything seemed the same. I mean, I didn’t really know what to expect. I was just curious. But when I woke up the…
November 18, 2025
Science Fiction Stories L Christopher Hennessy

A Bug In Your Mental Health

The first one appeared on a Tuesday. Gregory Hume had just microwaved a frozen shepherd’s pie and was halfway through a rerun of “Quantum Leap” when he saw it—skittering across the linoleum like a twitchy shadow. He blinked, paused the show, and leaned…
November 18, 2025
Crime Stories Daryl Rothman

Sebastian Marlow

"Mr. Marlow? I thought it was you. Wow. So excited to meet you--well, not really meet you, I mean you're obviously having dinner here with your friends and I'm just some random person who's interrupted you, but just to see you and get a chance to introduce…
November 18, 2025
Science Fiction Stories L Christopher Hennessy

The Algorithm Of Grace

Elias woke to the smell of lavender and the sound of birdsong. The sun filtered through lace curtains, casting golden veins across the floor. His apartment was immaculate. The coffee brewed itself. The newsfeed whispered affirmations: You are safe. You are…
November 18, 2025
General Stories Syed Hassan Askari

God In The Loudspeaker

He lived in a small four-marla house — a thousand square feet — beside the transformer in the back lane of the mosque. Fifteen years had passed since he had settled in this village. Everyone respectfully called him Maulvi Sahib. In winter, his voice echoed…
November 18, 2025
Fantasy Stories Frank Talaber

We Are Lovers Of The Ethereal

I staggered from the house party into the backyard more drunk or stoned than I cared to admit needing fresh air. A growl broke the rhythmic pounding of music. I stared into the red eyes of the massive dog, chained in place. I’d had enough dealings with…
November 18, 2025
Science Fiction Stories L Christopher Hennessy

Deleting Her Gently

She kissed him goodbye knowing he wouldn't remember her tomorrow. The kiss lingered longer than it should have, a soft press of lips against fading certainty. The man before her—Tom August—smiled, unaware of the weight behind her touch. His eyes, still bright…
November 18, 2025
Horror Stories Tom Kropp

Exonerated Evil

My dad died in the LA ghetto when I was only 14. That's also the night I killed five gang members and damned my soul. My dad was a disabled vet. He lost his left leg in Iraq. He lived with chronic pain from his wounds and he fought his addiction to…
November 18, 2025
Science Fiction Stories L Christopher Hennessy

The Bone Archive

The cathedral had no roof. Its spires jutted like broken ribs into a sky choked with ash. Vines of rusted fiber-optic cable hung from shattered stained glass, twitching in the wind like dying nerves. Beneath the altar, hidden behind a false panel of oxidized…
November 18, 2025
Horror Stories James D. Brewer

The Strange Tale Of Pismire And Isos

It began like any other day. As his fellow workers secured their loads and assumed their position in the column, Pismire noted that his teammate, Isos, was struggling to maintain his grip as they held the supplies above them. Isos was always slow and a bit…

We watched the moving truck pull up next door. We were still in our pjs and looking down from our bedroom window. My brother, Wilson and me high-fived each other and got silly because we were finally getting rid of the bully, Norman who’d been tormenting us for years. We knew mom and dad were happy too cause Norman’s parents had been annoying them for years.

 

Finally, around one in the afternoon while they were still packing, another moving truck pulled up in front of our house with a van and a pickup truck right behind. A large, bald tattooed man got out of the pickup and a lady and two kids got out from the van. The dropped the tailgate on the pickup, pulled a ramp out and backed down two three wheelers which the kids got on and drove around the cul-de-sac. Around and around.

 

The mother, after a bit, took out a blanket and a picnic basket and walked over to our front lawn and made themselves to home. The father motioned for the kids to come over and they did wheelies and gunned their bikes over and parked in our driveway.

 

Mom was speechless because dad was going to be coming home soon and the lawn was his pride and joy. The two kids, they looked about twelve, listened to their father and came up and rang our doorbell.

 

“My father says we should use your bathroom to wash up before we eat our lunch,” one of the brothers said. He looked over at me and Wilson and grinned a bully’s grin. Before my mother could answer my father pulled up to the house and began to turn into the driveway. Blocked by the bikes, he honked his horn and looked over at the picnickers who waved and motioned him over,

 

Dad did that and tattoo guy stood towering over dad by a few inches and lots of pounds and they shook hands. They talked for a few minutes and Mr. Tattoo yelled for his boys to move their bikes which they did leaving ruts in dad’s pride and joy yard. Dad put his arm around Mr. Tattoo and spoke into his ear.

 

Next thing you know dad walks into our garage and returns with a sledge hammer and we know that those bikes are history. Instead he walks over to this tricked out pickup with racing stripes, 4 doors, extended bed and beautiful wheel hubs and starts to beat the shit out of it. He knocks out all the windows, lights and dents every surface he can. The Tattoo guy is standing and watching.

 

Dad calls us over and hands us the sledgehammer and points to the bikes and we look at him and he nods and we go and beat the shit out of the bikes. Mom is outside watching and Dad takes the sledgehammer and reaches it out to Mom and points at the van.

There are now neighbors out watching this scene play out and Dad takes back the sledgehammer and walks over to Mr. Tattoo and swings it down on his foot as hard as he can. The neighbors murmur and then applaud which is unusual because my folks really don’t know the neighbors.

 

Mr. Tattoo calls his moving driver over and they talk and then the moving driver gets in his truck and drives off. Mrs. Tattoo gathers the food from our lawn and gathers everyone into the van and they drive off just as they came—in a squeal of rubber. An hour later two tow trucks pick up the truck and motorcycles and haul them away while dad is outside on his lawn raking the ruts.

 

That night we sit around the table after dinner and dad explains why we have different names and can’t talk about our past. He says that the tattoo guy is also in the Government Witness Protection Program and they made a mistake moving him next to us and that all he had to do was explain it to the man and get his attention and everything would be alright.

 

Two months later Dad gave us our new names and we moved in the middle of the night from Tempe to Pasadena. We only took some clothes and toys and left all of the furniture.

 

When we got to our new house it was furnished and on a lake and very private. Dad said that he was no longer a manager at McDonalds but that his new job was selling life insurance which he was obviously very good at.

 

Bio: Paul Beckman has had over two hundred stories published in print and online in the following magazines amongst others: Connecticut Review, Raleigh Review, Litro, Playboy, Pank, Literary Orphans, Blue Fifth Review, Flash Frontier, Metazen, Boston Literary Magazine and The Brooklyner. He's had a novella and three collections published; the newest, "Peek" by Big Table Publishing in Feb. of this year. His published story website is www.paulbeckmanstories.com

 

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