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Latest Stories

April 20, 2024
Poetry Paweł Markiewicz

The Quire Of The Sheep

We are calling for your soul for a benevolent autumnal source May the hoary times arrive full of sunny gloom endlessly dream! with a fancy coming from tender sea we are conjuring you dreamer your mythical pearls Come propitious birdies from Olympus-mountling!…
April 20, 2024
Crime Stories Jason Smith

Peter's Peril

It was finally happening. After years of struggling, Peter had landed his dream job. A producer in Hollywood had read his self published book and wanted to create a television show based on it. He’d personally asked Peter to join his writing team. This was…
April 20, 2024
Fantasy Stories Nelly Shulman

The White Dove

The dusty glass of an ancient lamp sparkled, and Bronwen jumped back. Nikola rolled his eyes. “The electricity is quite safe,” he said. “Sooner or later, you’ll use it.” Sitting down in a worn velvet chair, Bronwen snorted. “What for, Nikola? I have my magic…
April 13, 2024
Flash Fiction Benoit

The March

By just one seat, the Coalition of Hard Fighting Women, More Justice for Women and Green Now had won the election. At 12 noon on Giri (Wednesday), triumphant feminists would march from each end of Sydney Harbour Bridge to celebrate. Led by Prime Minister…
April 13, 2024
Flash Fiction Dominik Slusarczyk

The Exam

I I catch the ball, spin, and throw it back to my friend. I throw it way too hard. It goes sailing over my friend’s head, bounces, then goes into the back of a girl sat in a little circle with her friends. One of her friends tuts at us and tells us to be more…
April 13, 2024
Mystery Stories MegaParsec

Mrs Briton's Secret

Everyday Mrs. Briton would quietly leave the house in the dark. She would tiptoe so that no one would ever come to know that…..(beginning given) She was dying. The only pillar of the family’s well-being depending on a tiny vial and a hypodermic needle. Every…
April 11, 2024
Horror Stories Luna Woods

Cornswell The Witch

The year is 1692. A young fellow named David was on his way into town when he saw a weird-looking house in the distance. The house was old and run-down, but there was still light burning through the windows. "DAVID. DAAAAAAVIIIID." David turned around to see…
April 11, 2024
Science Fiction Stories David Blitch

Do You Remember When?

Do you remember when? Before the Alien Bastards came? Well, I sure do! I sit here in my farm house on the lake, at the foothills of the White Mountains, getting wasted on cheap beer even before the lunch bell has rung. It is a place so secluded, among the…
April 11, 2024
Romance Stories A.Coster

A Night In The Black Forest

My homebound journey following my tour of Europe was interrupted when my plane halted in Paris for a couple hours, leaving me with just one hour in Frankfurt to make my connecting flight. As I had feared, I would not make it. If you’ve traveled through…
April 01, 2024
Science Fiction Stories Salvatore Difalco

Life And Death In The Arcology

My neuropractioner, Dr. Mercury Pope, called my state of despair a waste of time. He wasn’t the only one, but coming from a neuropractioner it meant something. “Let me edit you,” he said, reaching for what they called the Helmet Doctor, a portable editing…
April 01, 2024
General Stories Michael Barlett

The Need For Speed

‘Be-Bop-a-Lula, she’s my baby Be-bop-a Lula, I don’t mean maybe’… CHAPTER ONE Gene Vincent’s rock n’ roll hit song blasted from the Radio Shack speakers in Scotty Ferguson’s souped-up ’53 Studebaker Hawk. Scotty had just cruised the length of the downtown…
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…

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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