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Latest Stories

October 17, 2025
Flash Fiction L Christopher Hennessy

The Moon Is A Wanderer Too

The rain came down like broken glass and the city was a wound, bleeding light and exhaust and the smell of food frying in oil that’s been used too many times. I was walking nowhere, which is the only place I ever go, and the streets were full of saints and…
October 17, 2025
Mystery Stories Brittany Szekely

The House On Wren Street

Notes: A mother rebuilding her life after domestic violence uncovers a chilling secret in her new home Isla didn’t notice the house was watching her until the second week. At first, it was just creaks in the floorboards, the way the hallway light flickered…
October 17, 2025
Flash Fiction L Christopher Hennessy

Pee Girl Gets The Milk

He met her on a Tuesday, the kind of Tuesday that feels like a leftover Monday, stale and gray and hungover from the weekend’s sins. Her name was Lita, or maybe Rita, or maybe she just said that to keep things simple. She had a cigarette halo, a ring of smoke…
October 17, 2025
General Stories Matias Travieso-Diaz

Lie To Me More

La vida es una mentira; Miénteme más,Que me hace tu maldad feliz.(Life is a lie; Lie to me more,For your wickedness makes me happy.)Armando Domínguez Borras, “Miénteme” (bolero) Out of a habit ingrained over fifty-odd years of hard work, Timmy McFarlane got up…
October 17, 2025
Flash Fiction Syed Hassan Askari

The Unseen Listener Of Moscow

It was 11:55 p.m. when he stepped out of Moscow’s Lefortovo Metro Station. His whole body ached; his legs trembled. His eyes were sleepy. He felt surrounded by unknown souls, all in a hurry to reach their destinations. He looked at the disappearing faces for a…
October 17, 2025
General Stories L Christopher Hennessy

Rearranging The Brain Furniture

She called herself Lark, though her name was probably something dull like Emily or Claire. She was nineteen, maybe twenty, with a face that looked like it had been drawn in charcoal, smudged eyes, a mouth that never quite closed, and hair that hung like wet…
October 17, 2025
Flash Fiction L Christopher Hennessy

FCAWF

She called herself Moth and said she liked the way they flew into flames without flinching. Her real name was Emily, but that was buried under layers of eyeliner, cigarette burns, and a voice that could cut glass. She was thirty, somewhat immature, vindictive…
October 17, 2025
Science Fiction Stories Kashif Imdad

Femtoria

In a dystopian future, the world had transformed into a society that was unrecognisable to those who had lived in the previous century. The nation of Femtoria stood as a beacon of prosperity, A female supremacist regime, had risen to power, enforcing a strict…
September 27, 2025
Flash Fiction Syed Hassan Askari

Half an Hour to Fourteen

Last night she lay on her bed with a curly-haired doll close to her chest. She was looking at the clock hanging over the door. Only half an hour was left —her life’s digit would turn from thirteen to fourteen, a change that felt like a heavy blow to the…
September 27, 2025
Romance Stories Nelly Shulman

Till We Meet Again

“Would you like more coffee?”The server in the orange apron lowered the pot, but Cath muttered, “No, thank you.”Her voice trembled, and the server busied herself with the next table. Outside the window, fog enveloped Waterloo Bridge. The morning was quiet,…
September 23, 2025
Flash Fiction Leroy B. Vaughn

Another Farewell To Arms Reunion

We were sitting in a little café in Wickenburg Arizona eating lunch when my wife looked at me and said, “I can’t believe you’re actually going to this reunion after you told all of your buddies that there was not a chance in hell that you would go.” “I know…
September 23, 2025
General Stories William Kitcher

A Political Solution

The Rt. Honorable Leader/Head of Council/First Governor/Chief Minister/Premier/President/Chancellor/First Minister/Party Secretary-General entered his office, and looked out the open window. It was a beautiful sunny cool day, and the cherry blossoms shone in…

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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