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Latest Stories

February 06, 2026
General Stories Thomas Turner

The Lost Williamsen

Coming back from Switzerland, after my wife died, was pretty hard, but I made it. When I landed in LaGuardia airport. I went to go get my luggage. That's where my brother Eddie was, to pick me up and to see the rest of the family. Eddie comes over to me and…
February 06, 2026
Horror Stories Tom Kropp

Killing & Carnage

The sun was a blood lurid red slipping below the jagged peaks of the Redmount Mountains. For Shannon, its fading light was not a promise of rest, but a countdown to her dark side.​ She pressed her spine against the damp, crumbling limestone of a marketplace…
February 06, 2026
Poetry Markus J

2 Aussie Limericks 2 Aussie Clerihews

once a aussie yobbo named pete who only wore thongs on his feet a bunion grew on his toes and a red wart on his nose over were his days at the beach ------------------------------------------------------ there once was a jackaroo who went by the name of blue…
February 02, 2026
Flash Fiction Matias Travieso-Diaz

My Second Middle Name

San Lázaro no quiere palabras, quiere hechos. Popular Cuban refrain A few hours after I was born, my parents had a conversation regarding my name. The usual practice in Cuba, as in many other countries, was that a baby would have two given names apart from…
February 02, 2026
General Stories Thomas Turner

Year One

T J Tuner, Sonny Turner and Curt Chown January 4, 1976- Ocean avenue, Brooklyn New York: Sonny and his wife are having coffee at 5pm Sunday. His wife’s name is Candy. This is when Candy asks ‘When are they picking you up?’ Sonny says ‘7:30 pm.’ Candy asks…
February 02, 2026
Horror Stories Tom Kropp

Werewolf Bar Brawl

Shannon returned to the main street and boldly approached the cantina. At the doorway, one of the burly guards boldly said, "We don't allow no outside whores in here. Only Diego's girls are allowed to work here." "Don't insult me. I'm not a whore. I just…
February 02, 2026
Flash Fiction Matias Travieso-Diaz

The Self-Serving Giraffe

Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live. Oscar Wilde Grumpff was a Somali giraffe male (Giraffa reticulata) in a herd that inhabited a dry savannah in northern Kenya. He was eighteen feet tall and two…
February 02, 2026
Poetry Markus J

An Aussie Had A Barry Crocker

once an Aussie had a Barry Crocker when he got fined from an angry copper he smoked up his golden ute then said it was real beaut because of this, the fine was made double and his best mate was nicked named blue cooked kangaroo and emu stew gave none to…
February 02, 2026
Crime Stories Shane Horton

Super Detectives (Queen Bee)

The smoke of my cigarette dances on the fire of its embers while I breathe in the tar. Chills silently run along my body from the slow breezes of the city. Exposed skin is cold like chunks of ice from the late winter. Honking, common yelling, and occasional…
February 02, 2026
Science Fiction Stories Tom Kropp

Eye Of The Cyborg

Fierce winds whipped across the blood red desert of Dumar and its stormy scarlet skies were filled with soaring starships. A large city sparkled in the hellish light, safe from the storm behind flickering photonic forcefields. It was a volatile planet prone…
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…

The wind howled in the night while smacking up against the house, which made me get out of bed and shuffle over to the window.

I stared directly across the street at my neighbor’s bedroom window and shook my head when the outline of a teenage girl popped out at me. I would be lying if I said this hadn’t happened before, which begged the question if my neighbor was keeping her prisoner in his house.

Rob repositioned himself in my bed. “Come back to bed.”

The girl continued standing right where she was while tears rolled down her cheeks.

“In a minute,” I said.

“What could possibly be so important that you want to stay up? I mean we already wasted the opportunity of your parents being away for the night.”

The hairs on my back pricked up at the arrival of a man who was now standing by the girl in the window from across the street. His eyes widened as he stared at me a few seconds longer than he should have before he jerked the girl by her ponytail.

“There’s a girl standing by the window. You have to see it.”

“So what? It’s not our problem your neighbor has insomnia.”

I turned around to face him. “Just get out of bed and look.”

He sighed. “Fine. If it really means that much to you...”

Rob got out of bed, scurrying to the window.

“There’s no one there, Claire.”

I whipped my body around again only to discover that Rob was right because the curtains had been closed in the bedroom window across the street.

“I’m telling you there was a girl. You have to believe me.”

“It doesn’t matter now, does it?”

***

Rays of sunlight poked through my bedroom the following morning, signaling that taking out the trash could no longer be ignored.

I darted out of bed, leaving Rob to himself since he would have had a fit if I woke him up before noon on a Saturday.

It wasn’t long before I trekked outside, as I didn’t even bother to scoff or roll my eyes at the realization that it was yet another day of sepia drenched across the sky.

Something touched my back after I dumped the trash in the garbage can, causing me to scream.

I blinked and then opened my eyes again, realizing it was the man from the previous evening.

“You know, it would behoove you to mind your own business young lady,” said the man.

I put my hands on my hips. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you can figure that out yourself.”

“Are you threatening me?” I asked.

“No. I wouldn’t say that.”

“I’m not the one that grabbed someone in an abusive manner last night.”

Something splashed onto the ground, causing my attention to shift towards the man’s trash. I cringed at the discovery of trickling blood from a towel that snuck out several inches from the garbage can while the scent of bleach wafted through the air.

“There’s blood oozing out of your garbage can.”

“So, what’s your point?”

“Did you have an accident or something?”

The man remained silent while refusing to look away from me.

I inhaled a breath, forcing air into my lungs. “Tell me something. Who was that girl standing by the window last night?”

He smiled at me, showcasing his crooked teeth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The man was gone before I could even open my mouth again and his front door slammed behind him, echoing in the background.

I bit down on one of my nails while the mattered simmered in my mind for another few moments.

He could have prepared a cut of meat that was bloody and made a mess, which forced him to use bleach to clean it up. No. That couldn’t be it. People didn’t use bleach to clean up a mess from a piece of meat since the motives had to be more nefarious than that. After all, it was the only logical answer.

I went back inside several minutes later and turned on the TV in the kitchen as I let the eggs crackle in the frying pan for a bit.

“Today marks the three year anniversary of Kim Lively’s disappearance, and the case remains unsolved to this day. She would now be 18,” said the news anchor.

I stared at the photograph the news had propped up on the screen as I blinked several times, realizing she had an uncanny resemblance to the girl in the window.

The increased volume of the sizzling of the eggs in the frying pan forced my attention back to the stove, making me press the off button on the remote.

The TV turned black in a flash before I scooped the eggs onto a plate.

But I knew the truth, and that was enough for now even if I had been the only one to see the girl. Although for what it was worth, I never saw the girl again because it was as if she vanished into oblivion.

 

End

 

 

Chris Bedell's previous publishing credits include essays on the

online magazine Thought Catalog. He has also had several stories

published on online literary magazines, which include "Surface

Tension" on Crab Fat Literary Magazine, "A Little Accident" and "The

House That Never Was" on Quail Bell Magazine, "The Wronger Murder",

"Game Over", and "Poof and I'm Gone" on Short-story.me. Furthermore,

Pidgeonholes Magazine will publish one of his stories in December.

 

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