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Latest Stories

May 19, 2018
Fantasy Stories Jo Carroll

The Curl and Vampire

She was a pretty thing to be sure, the little girl with the curl. Her cheeks were as red as blood and her skin as smooth as porcelain. And yet there was something odd about her clear blue eyes—something empty and soulless. She sat atop her throne of building…
May 17, 2018
Mystery Stories Nicole Robb

New Frontier

Still groggy from her hibernation chamber, Stacey checked the readings once again on the ship's control panel.She had read them right. "Tom! Something's wrong." "What is it?" Tom emerged from the back where he had been checking on the twelve hundred sleeping…
May 17, 2018
Mystery Stories Laura Ellison


The smell of death hung heavy and pungent in the air. Sickness touched the skin and covered it in a dewy glow that in any other situation could have been attractive. Castellan held a scented handkerchief over her nose as she walked through the village to the…
May 17, 2018
Fantasy Stories Dylan Thomas Nichol

Forged in Shadows

Screaming was all that could be heard through the bone chilling halls of the dungeon. This was what the supposedly great nation of Hace really was. An ugly abomination lay underneath the stunning Admor Keep, and Caelin made the long journey through it, his…
May 17, 2018
Mystery Stories Isabel Schwaak

Something Stronger

A thick grey stone wall separated the village of Telly Fenn from the wilderness. A narrow path led the way out of the village and melted into a crossroad, from which a crooked path strayed far into the dark forest. The inhabitants of Telly Fenn were content…
May 17, 2018
Fantasy Stories Jade De-Terville

A Light Bulb Called Tink

“This is more than just a bloody mid life crisis,” Karen said clutching a tattered red book, until her knuckles started going white. She savagely threw the book onto the chequered dining cloth, and ran her hands through her untamed hair. “Oi, mind the…
May 17, 2018
Fantasy Stories April Winters

Area Twenty Four and a Half

I, Jim Roberts, got fired today. I didn’t realize Mr. Kerr, my boss, was standing behind me when I referred to him as Kerr-mitt. He failed to see the humor, and now I have no source of income. Looks like my journalistic aspirations are out the window. I…
May 17, 2018
Fantasy Stories Jeremy Szal

Crimson Snow

16th Day of Regon, Year 455 of the First Dawn I could feel the cold as we climbed higher, the chill reaching into my bones. The wind whispered across the grassland, flapping my black hair over my face. I wanted to lie down. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to…
May 17, 2018
Fantasy Stories B.J.Neblett


“Segue the next couple of records with a jingle then go into a stop set. I’m gonna get some air.” Hy Lit flashed his agreeable smile, adjusted his trade mark tinted glasses and winked. “You’re a natural, kid.” Then he disappeared out the studio door. The…
May 17, 2018
Fantasy Stories BJ Neblett

Pockets Full Of Wishes

“Don’t put your hands in the pockets!” Jimmy looked at his sister. It was just a winter coat, a used one. It was all his parents could afford. But it was his. He picked it out. Now he stood proudly before the store mirror admiring the blue denim coat with the…
May 17, 2018
Fantasy Stories Laura Ellison


Arlia knelt down on a silk cushion in the middle of the room. She took a deep breath and centred herself. Gramps always told her to do this, sometimes he jabbed her in the sides with his walking stick if he thought she rushed meditation. In front of her the…
May 17, 2018
Fantasy Stories Paul Magnan


I grasped the rough edges of the tombstone and pulled it from the strands of thick, yellowed grass upon which it lay. I set it in an upright position. The words “Dear Love” were carved along the top of the stone. I had carved those words. For a few seconds…



It was four in the morning, but muggy as only Florida in the summer could be. Jetlagged, I couldn’t toss and turn in my bed any longer. I sat up, staring at the shadowed reflection in the warped mirrors that lined the walls. A single closet light highlighted the harsh edges and cast strange shadows that caught my eyes and sent a frisson up my spine.

I hated this room. Too many memories wrapped in cellophane in the closets, dresses from the 1950’s trading buttons with sport jackets from the 1980’s. My Mema had a hard time letting go.

Under the bathroom’s boudoir lighting, deep purpling bags stared back at me. I shouldn’t have read so late, even with the jetlag. Two quick swipes of mascara gave me eyes again. Something spiny and hairy scuttled over my foot and I jumped, almost poking my eye out. I cursed liberally in two languages and searched the white and black tiles, but whatever it’d been, it was gone and only the tingling sensation lingered. Stupid old house. Mema wouldn’t leave it even as it fell apart around her; it was her last connection to her dead.

I checked for anything else that might scuttle over my foot, palmetto bug, mouse, or my imagination. I turned lights on as I walked and then off once the next room was lit. It made for awkward back and forth progress. The encroaching darkness nipped at my heels, twining like an insolent cat, and I was conscious of every step. At the back of the house mist crept up the lawn from the wide river, obscuring the crabgrass and blanketing the grapefruit trees.

This mansion, a creaky 1970’s monstrosity, overlooked a slanting dock slowly succumbing to Florida mold and moss. Its indoor pool was slimy, the hot tub scummy with bacteria from someone’s nether regions, while the two-story glass enclosure was chipped and cracked from years of benign neglect.

The stairs were dark, lacking lighting, an oversight that made Mema sleep downstairs instead of up in the master suite she’d shared for years with my grandfather. I used my toes to cautiously find the next step hidden in the stair’s maw. Still on European time, I needed some cereal. At the bottom, the door opened into a living room bordered by the pool’s glass prison. Even at this hour, the two eighty-inch screen TVs were lit with static. It added a greenish glow to a room where stuffed animals and upholstered chairs vied for mastery on shag carpet and cracked tile.

I fumbled for the light switch. It was here somewhere. I brushed against something fuzzy and bit back a yelp. Finally, the plastic switch caught my sweeping fingertips and light flooded the room.

Mema sat in her La-Z-boy recliner with her red wig askew and fake teeth grinning. I lurched backward against the doorknob. The breath whooshed out of me. She turned slowly to stare.

“Good morning,” I stuttered. The air was too thick for passage through my larynx to my lungs.

“Good morning.” She seemed completely unperturbed by my sudden entrance from a dark stairwell into a room where she’d apparently been sitting alone in the dark staring at static TVs. But maybe she was used to unexpected visitors. “Can’t sleep?” she asked, still without blinking blood-shot eyes.

“Jet lag,” I said, still breathless. “Trouble sleeping too?”

“I feel closest to your grandfather when I watch the snow channel.” She pointed a lightning bolt finger at the rocking chair with the large teddy bear and American flags that rocked at my elbow.

I stared. “What?”

“Your grandfather,” she repeated, false white teeth winking under harsh florescent lights. “He’s right next to you with his teddy bear.”


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