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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…

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.

 

THE END

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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