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Latest Stories

July 28, 2018
Mystery Stories Roger Ley

The Wheel Fiddle

The melody drifted across the garden as she was picking fruit to make a summer pudding. She put down her basket, wiped the sweat from her forehead and walked around to the front of the cottage. The man stood waiting at her garden gate, he raised his cap. He…
July 28, 2018
Flash Fiction Rekha Viswanathan

Pills and Capsules

I wake up to a crisp, clear and sunny morning. The fresh coffee smell beside my bed tempts me. One long sip of the coffee and my senses kick in! I have a long day ahead. At least that's what the papers at the foot of my bed say. Glancing at the paper I see…
July 28, 2018
Crime Stories Stephen A Murray


There existed in Russia a small group of intelligence operatives left over from the KGB. They are known as Sputniks. From Wikipedia: "Sputnik was the first artificial Earth satellite. The Soviet Union launched it into an elliptical low Earth orbit on October…
July 28, 2018
General Stories Paul Anobile

A Portrait of Slam Bang City

I was hired to paint the portrait of a billionaire who founded a small city twenty years ago in a ghost town he purchased in Arizona. Danny O’Keefe, professional wrestling promoter and executive, convinced a number of investors to build a fourteen-thousand…
July 28, 2018
Science Fiction Stories Majoki

The Deadest Generation

Sergeant Taylor always checked us thoroughly before sending us in: regulation uniform, backpacks, anti-ballistic helmets, Kevlar vests, and, of course, your gun. You couldn’t go anywhere in this place and be safe without your gun. Sergeant Taylor was strict…
July 28, 2018
General Stories J.B.Stevens

Dead Camel

The improvised explosive popped off to the convoy’s left. The armored black Suburban Neil drove muffled the sound to a dull thud. The blast seemed smaller than normal. “Anyone hurt?” the medic, Luiz, called across the radio. The team members, in four matching…
July 28, 2018
Romance Stories Jerry Hogan

He'll Ask Me To Dance Again

Jay I’m Jay, and I have never been to the My Time Dance Studio before tonight. As I entered, the interior projected a garish 1930s Art Deco motif. Greenish, glow-in-the-dark, semilucent plastic tubing wrapped around the hand railings separating one sitting…
July 28, 2018
General Stories Jim Bartlett

The Comebacker

Cornstalk stretches forward, the look almost as if he’s about to fall headfirst off the mound, saved only by the slapping of his left hand to his knee. He locks eyes with his catcher, then lets his gaze wander down just below his glove for the sign. Uncle…
July 28, 2018
Crime Stories Susan C. Nigra

Never Kill The Author

Oh My God! What’s happening? This has never happened before. I am cornered, trapped, boxed in with no safe way out. There has always been a way out before, miraculous last minute saves. I think back to how I got here and I remember I was assigned this case as…
July 28, 2018
Crime Stories Thomas Schmidt

The Streets of Camden

Saturday night was cold and wet. Mike Joseph walked cautiously down Norris Street on his way to the Whitman Park Field, a large green space inside the depressed neighborhood. Propositioned twice by street walkers, he kept moving while shifting his head from…
July 13, 2018
Mystery Stories Rekha Viswanathan

The Enchanted Woods

The boys are on a trip. A trip into the woods. Accompanied by their family they trudge along a narrow path, a route that had obviously been traced by human footsteps, a trail that had been trodden many a time. They walk cautiously, startled by the snap of a…
July 13, 2018
Flash Fiction Carl Perrin

What Could go Wrong

If you plan every detail carefully, nothing can go wrong. I believed that when I was a teenager. Like the time Billy Long and I decided to make our own beer. Once in a while we used to steal a couple of Billy’s father’s beers, but we were always afraid we…



In geometry class you were taught the importance of shapes. The different dynamics they can display when in a relationship with their colleague, math. I remember listening to the lesson and then dismissing it quickly, unfortunately. I think I might have been asleep when taught the intricate part where, by not treating the shapes with the care and respect they deserved, it would result in an imbalance in the equation. No less, a loss of equilibrium in one’s own existence.

The Hexagon just prostrates its monogamous ugly head and jumps on the upper part of my back. Between the weight of the Hexagon and its complexity, its action causes me to be thrown to the ground. I struggle to even breathe.

On many occasions I had taken a stumble. This was more than a stumble. This was a clear break down in my normal existence. Who am I trying to impress? The show is over. I will not be able to get up on my own given the dynamics of this shape. I look closely at it and the relationships that have robbed me from my former self I once knew, from long ago. Hold a full length mirror to me and there may just not be anything in the mirror!

A Hexagon has six points. There are six key players including myself. I give myself the letter “C” so I can identify myself. At least this is a start. The other five points are “N”, “E”, “X”, “M” and “A”. The weight of the Hexagon is too much. I cannot get up from the cold concrete. Perhaps I should analyze my points more clearly. I start with the point to the left of me, “N”. N was once my knight in shining armour, best friend and lover. I would no longer label him as a knight. Over the years he has lost or by his own accord, discarded every shred of his armour. The only part of him that is still shinning is his earth tone eyes. He let it slip from his precious fingers.

I continue on with the next point, “E”. He is one of my best friends. He has never been my lover. Although from time to time he does take the opportunity to throw himself at me. I guess he just wants me to remember he is still here and available. He makes a good best friend because he is away from the rest of the hexagon points. E can be more objective and is not so much caught up in the drama. He is my good luck charm.

I move to the “X” point. She has known me for over a decade. She is, used to be my other half. A few months ago she met another woman. The tangible element that cements our relationship is now being held for ransom in a solid black box. There is not light, no holes, or windows in this box. The only way to see the element is to wait for X to open the lid with her key. I do not have a key. She does not allow me to have a key, or maybe I just don’t want one?

I move to “M”. M is a great person when you need a team or need an entourage to help tackle a task with a challenge. If I feel down I need to say a hundred feet away from M. If she gives me one iota of “encouragement” I will walk away wishing for someone to strangle me into unconsciousness. She means well, she just has that effect on people.

I am at the last point before my own. I am at the Hexagon point that has a label “A”. Although A is a newer addition to my shape, she has been making her point for awhile. When I need to let my tears dance around, she is here. When I need someone to pick me up and dust me off, she is here. Just not right now. The only thing I do not like about A is she is a secret. Due to life circumstances no one really knows about her. If a tragedy such as this should strike, I cannot look to her. A secret cannot cross a line. A line that etches deep and conveniently can only be seen by her.

I look at my point: C. I see there have been a lot of change, tears and a deadly weight I can no longer continue to carry. I have hit rock bottom. The only way I will be able to get up off this sidewalk is if I trade in my Hexagon for a smaller and more manageable shape. What points can I erase? I love and care for all these points”

N: A lover who cannot see me.

E: A lucky charm.

X: Is holding me for ransom.

M: A good friend minus pep talks.

A: A secret I cannot see.

I am crestfallen. This Hexagon has broken me and therefore I cannot continue. How do I decide who is to stay or go? Who should I erase from this shape and by default, my life? Maybe I should open up my soul, toss their names in and only pull one or two names out. What shape do I need in order to get up?

I try on different shapes briefly. I try a square, pentagon, a triangle and a circle. A pentagon is almost the shape as a hexagon. One point does not make enough of a difference as I am still down on the sidewalk. A square is a bit lighter but still too awkward. The triangle is more manageable with me plus two.

Someday I will use the triangle. Someday it will be just me as a circle, with no one else. These shapes make it more manageable and work for me. Some days the points of the triangle are labelled the same and some days they are labelled differently.

What matters is that I get to keep all my points. I can now get up. I walk to the nearest Starbucks.



Bio: My name is Catina Noble. I am a freelance writer and photographer in Ottawa, Ontario. I have been published in Short-Story Me, The Prairie Journal, The Riverview Park Review, The Mindful Word, Babypost, Canadian Newcomer, Mainstreeter, PENand CultivateTo. I suffer from stationary sickness and can never have too many pens or notebooks! I am a single mom of four and I love the words “carpe diem”, today, tomorrow and always



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