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Latest Stories

February 03, 2023
General Stories Darrell Case

The Legend of White Owl Creek

I heard it from an old Indian who said his grandfather told him just before he died who heard it from his grandfather. White Feather raised a bony, wrinkled finger. “If you go to White Owl Creek after the sun is down on the twelfth of the month and if you see…
January 27, 2023
Flash Fiction Marina Krasavtseva

Je t’aime… Moi non plus

Her first tear was a pleasure. Now, her eyes red and puffy, he felt somewhat disgusted but still satisfied with what he had done. Her sobbing was pleasing, but when she would open her mouth…He just wanted to punch her, stifle her or whatever it would take to…
January 27, 2023
Crime Stories Peter Greenhall

The Bank Robbery

Dev, a second generation Indian male, arrived early to work. He was the branch manager and responsible for the transferring of cash to a security van that arrived every Wednesday. Every week Dev arrived for work, alone, to meet the private company. On getting…
January 27, 2023
General Stories Emanuel Diaz

Oh Rats !

Francoch Ratta, a 27-year-old New Yorker of Irish-Italian descent, woke up one morning to find he had a peculiar sensation. It was as if someone, or something, was watching him. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it was a feeling that wouldn't go…
January 27, 2023
Poetry Peter Greenhall

Broken Hearted

Didn't take a knife, A gun, Or Strangulation, From anyone. No weapons of mass destruction, Powerfully, No cloak and dagger stuff, Sneakily. What you did, When you left me, What you did, Utterly destroyed me. Don't love me anymore, What am I to do? Didn't see…
January 24, 2023
Flash Fiction Greg Crow

The god Of Time And Space

There was a young man named Greg. He was an ordinary man, living an ordinary life, but he had a secret that he kept hidden from the world. He had the power to control time and space. Greg had discovered his power when he was just a teenager. He had been…
January 24, 2023
Poetry Peter Greenhall

My First Therapist

Imploding, Exploding, Fighting, And Hurting. Some of things I want to do, Cause much pain, To myself, And to others too. In my early 20's, Life's meant to be free, In my early 20's, Felt trapped within me. Raging inside, Volcanic activity, Some part of me…
January 24, 2023
Mystery Stories Emanuel Diaz

Let Me Protect You

It was a normal day for Arabella Barlow. She was working in her garden growing some of her vegetables to sell in her stall inside the Borough Market in London. She was at peace and content by doing this while she waited for her beloved husband Cenric Barlow.…
January 18, 2023
Flash Fiction Reen

Cold Chaos

An expected delay, the blue line will arrive in 8 minutes now. A smell of burning fire fills the startled air from the act of defrosting the CTA rail. While I take deep breaths, tiny droplets of liquid water and ice are seen in the air as a cloud. On this…
January 16, 2023
Poetry Paweł Markiewicz

The New Celtic Ode To The Dreamed Mother Nature

ABABACACA You are an enjoyable juniper! You are a pleasurable bush! You are an agreeable poplar! You are a delightful spruce! You are a gratifying cedar! You are an amusing birch! You are a diverting corn! You are a bonny pine! You are a lovely palm! Your…
January 16, 2023
Fantasy Stories Rafique Shabbir

The Return To Malneant

Almeric had not slept ever since the death of his wife whose murder was committed by his hands. He could not imagine what madness had impelled him to spill the blood of someone so pure and innocent. Nevertheless, the guilt manifested itself in his dreams as…
January 16, 2023
Poetry Peter Greenhall

Undercover Copper

I used to wear a uniform, Wore it brand new, Proud to be wearing that uniform, Happily arresting the scum amongst you. Football violence, Scuffles and domestics, Car crashes and possession, Total Mayhem. Undercover work, Is calling me, A bit cloak and dagger,…

“I am afraid the Governor won’t be able to see you today,” the receptionist said politely.

“This is unacceptable,” the man said. “Promises were made. I helped the governor get elected, you know. He is a friend of mine,” the man said, positive the one time he actually met the governor made them friends.

“As I recall, you were given a state job.”

“It’s in a warehouse,” said the man indignantly. “A job in a warehouse is not what I expected when I helped get him elected. I insist on seeing the governor.”

“As I said before,” the receptionist said, straining to maintain her Texas politeness, “that’s not possible. He’s not even in the capitol. Actually, he’s in your neck of the woods today.” She handed him a newspaper which explained the governor’s absence.

“This is not over,” he said. “Not by a long shot.” On the drive from Austin back to Dallas, his mind was in turmoil, planning his next step. It is about a three hour drive from Austin to Dallas, and before he got to Waco he made up his mind to take some drastic action. He stopped and made a telephone call. “They can’t do me this way,” he said out loud, though no one else could hear him. “I’ll take care of this the Texas way.”

When he got to downtown Dallas, some of the streets were blocked off, but he found a parking place near Dealey Plaza. He went into the building where he worked. As he was walking up the stairs, he ran into his co-worker coming down. “I got that thing you wanted,” he said. “It’s on the sixth floor in your hiding spot.”

“Thanks, Lee,” the man said.

He continued up the stairs to the sixth floor to a spot near a window hidden by stacks of boxed textbooks. He often came up here to hide from his supervisors. He found the item Lee had brought for him. He recognized it as a bolt action Carcano with a scope. For Christ’s Sake, why would anyone buy an Italian sniper rifle. This is Texas. You could get a better weapon at any hardware or sporting goods store. That Lee is such a dumb ass. He put on a pair of white cotton gloves and waited.

He heard the crowd react before he saw the cars turn off of Houston Street onto Elm Street. There was a big Lincoln Continental convertible with the top down. He quickly got the governor lined up in the scope. He fired and was pretty sure he hit the governor, but the other man in the car was in the way. He fired off two more rounds as fast as he could with the awkward Italian bolt action. He could see the governor slumped over in the lap of one of the women in the car. The other woman in the car, the one dressed in pink, climbed out on the back of the car. One of the bodyguards jumped on the car and brought her back to the seats. Then Lincoln took off quickly. He laid the rifle down carefully, and headed for the stairs.

“What happened? What’s going on?” It was Lee again.

“There’s been a shooting,” the man said. “You better get out of here.”

“Why? I ain’t done nothing.”

“Y’all better get on away from here. Something big is going on out there and the cops will be looking to arrest some Commies.”

“I ain’t a communist,” Lee said.

“Hell, you’ve been to Russia and you married a Russian girl. Here in Texas that pretty much makes you a communist.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Lee said. “Maybe I’ll just go on home till everything calms down.”

“Good idea,” the man said. “Here, take this in case there’s any trouble.” The man handed Lee a pistol.

“What’s this for?” Lee asked.

“Just in case,” the man said. “Now go on, get out of here.” He watched Lee leave the building. “What a twit,” he said to no one.

The man waited for a few minutes then walked out of the Book Depository Building. Houston and Elm Streets were empty of cars. There were policemen and civilians milling about, some pointing up and the various buildings, most just looking lost and confused. He walked to his car and drove to the Carousel Club, a place where he had spent many a pleasant evening. Now, however, there were no strippers on the stage. They were huddled around a radio with some customers, the bartender and Jack, the owner.

A few drinks later and the man was still at the bar. The radio was still on, giving updates on the situation. He tried to pay for his drinks, but Jack, the owner, said that they were in the house, this time. “Jack,” the man said, “I think I know who did this.”

“Really?” Jack answered, “Who was it?”

The man told Jack a long story about his co-worker, Lee: his politics, his travels to Russia and Cuba, his Russian wife. Jack listened attentively, asking an occasional question. When the man finished his story, Jack said he had to go do something, and told one of the girls to take care of “his friend,” meaning the man.

She poured him another Bourbon and asked, “Are you all right, honey,” in an East Texas accent sweeter than actual honey.

“Yes,” he said, trying to sound brave. “It’s just that I am kinda close to the Governor. He’s a friend of mine. I helped him get elected, you know?”

“Really,” she drawled. “This might not be the right time, but do you think you could help my little brother to get a job with the state?”

The man paused, then said, “You know, there may be a position opening up at the Book Depository.”

“Really?” she said, “You could do that?”

“Sure,” the man said, “that’s the Texas way.”



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