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Latest Stories

January 27, 2026
General Stories J.P. Young

Bittersweet Christmastide In A Winter Wonderland

“Our sweetest songs are those of saddest thought.” ― Percy Bysshe Shelley “It”s always sumtin”, ain”t it?” – Rico Long ago and far away…Things were like the good old days…and as Rico said, Ray lived for the good olddays…As his wife Katrina was working late at…
January 27, 2026
Fantasy Stories Fayaway & Hermester Barrington

Three Days' Flight to Mitrúvishar

Wednesday, November 20th, 2024 From: John Parchment <dragonwriter@mitruvishar.com> To: Emmett Zuntz <ezuntz@majicorpmedia.com> Dear Mr. Zuntz, thou ASCII Mephistopheles, I hereby tender my resignation to Majicorp Media. When I left my secure-but-boring…
January 26, 2026
Mystery Stories John A. Tures

I Know What You Did On This Date

“I know what you did on this date.”Tom Duvall stared at the note for the third time, observing its fancy script and blue ink,written in cursive. Below the words were numbers, looking just as fancy: 2/15/25.He licked his lips, body fidgeting in the highbacked…
January 26, 2026
Flash Fiction Matias Travieso-Diaz

Maximus Unbound

Life may change, but it may fly not; Hope may vanish, but can die not; Truth be veiled, but still it burneth; Love repulsed -but it returneth. Percy Bysshe Shelley, Prometheus Unbound Maximus was a prime specimen of male blue morpho menelaus butterfly. He was…
January 12, 2026
Fantasy Stories Garry Harman

Podmate

Looking out from under cover, the hungry creature’s sensors twitched nervously as it searched for danger. It was dark and that was good. How long it would stay dark was a mystery. Often, the bright light came slowly, soothingly. Sometimes it came suddenly and…
January 12, 2026
Poetry Markus J

Aussie Animals

kevy the big red male kangaroo impressed the girls with a manly woo out to set hearts on fire wore his best bushie attire as he blew on his didgeridoo wally the hairy nosed wombat was very hairy, round and fat waddled when he walked loudly screeched when he…
January 12, 2026
General Stories Lesley Brown

Temple De La Sibylle

Rebecca was smoking a cigarette at a brasserie in the 17th arrondissement of Paris. She had always dreamt of moving to Paris, but she shared her dogs with her ex-wife, Hae Jung, back in New York and couldn't bear to part with them. She resigned herself to the…
January 12, 2026
Crime Stories Tom Kropp

Robbers And Rapists Ruffians

Bruno's story starts out in 1773 on a London dead end street when Brita stomped on his feet. There was no warning as she dashed past the alley and crashed into Bruno. The breath was buffeted from her body and her head clipped his chin. Bruno was bounced back…
January 10, 2026
Fantasy Stories Garry Harman

Alien Speaker

The Speaker loitered outside the Speaking Nest, floating effortlessly in the thick atmosphere. Small webbings keeping him stable, eyes constantly goggling for food or danger. He took a glance to inspect his armor. In good condition, gleaming and delightful to…
January 10, 2026
General Stories Tom Kropp

Greg’s Grievous Grudge

The man who used the fake identity of JB Strand sat in his little hotel room alone, smoking crack and drinking. His early years haunted him. His mom had been a junkie prostitute that left a map work of scars across his back from cigarette cherries and…
January 10, 2026
Fantasy Stories Garry Harman

Grey Leader

“Blue Leader to Grey Leader. You there, Pappy?” “Roger, Blue Leader. Can’t you see me?” It was getting dark. Grey Leader was happy to be difficult to spot. Being seen could be fatal. Blue Leader and his flight were cruising in close formation, but not too…
January 10, 2026
Flash Fiction Tom Kropp

School Shooter Stopped

"Scot! You have to get to the tech school now! There's a shooter waiting outside right now! He's waiting for the period to end and ambush students! He's got an Uzi machine pistol and another pistol!" Sharon informed Scot. "Name and location?" Scot inquired…

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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