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Latest Stories

May 03, 2021
General Stories Marco

Gardening In New South Africa

I stood at the gate, gazing up the road. As expected, it was too early for people to be out exercising. My neighbours had warned me about getting casual gardeners in. As far as they were concerned if you get a casual in, a week later you will have a “home…
May 03, 2021
Flash Fiction Sean Fitts


I found you in New York City walking on the northside of West 50th, between 8th and Broadway. You’d told me you had already eaten, refusing my invitation to join me for lunch. I was in town for a gallery opening; you were in town to stay. “Break a leg,” you’d…
April 28, 2021
General Stories Jaclyn Garing

True Or False

I was just the average high school student trying to figure out who I liked, if anyone liked me, or if I even liked myself, whoever I thought I was. Unintentionally, somewhere between recess and advanced calculus, I had tricked people into thinking I was…
April 22, 2021
Science Fiction Stories Adrian Des Champs

Rainbow World

I always wanted to escape but I didn’t know how to. Now that I have the opportunity, I feel that there are no limits. There was no achievement in it, it was me just as easily as it could have been anyone else. Since I could not give it back, I had to use it.…
April 22, 2021
General Stories Vidal Martinez

Don Poncho

“Daddy, Daddy.” My eyes crack open. “Daddy.” My bed slightly moves. “Son, what is it?” “My little sombrero man is saying bad words.” I reach over, tapping the top of his head. “Son, go back to bed.” “But—” “Be quiet, you’ll wake Mommy in the other room.”…
April 15, 2021
Crime Stories Rishabh Rajesh

Busting Of The Drug Cartel

4am in the morning. The airport was hustling and bustling with travellers travelling from one place to another. John Deep, a narcotics department head officer at MIAMI INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT was on duty to catch hold of drug peddlers and smugglers. He has an…
April 12, 2021
Flash Fiction Rishabh Rajesh

The Darkest Night

CHAPTER-1: Introduction It was a dark and murky night. The moon and stars were hidden by the hazy clouds. The streets of Penton Avenue were deserted and desolated. No humans, animals and birds were seen. The streets had not streetlights nor any light source.…
April 12, 2021
General Stories Jack Karolewski

The Last Library

Perhaps it was inevitable. For what is life but a never-ending cavalcade of change and loss? People around the world stopped purchasing -- then soon, completely stopped reading -- physical books and other print media such as newspapers and magazines.…
April 07, 2021
Horror Stories Rishabh Rajesh

The Haunted Bungalow

John was driving down the desolated roads of Pressman Avenue. It was almost midnight. A storm was blowing and leaves were creaking. There was a heavy rainfall and a strong wind which made the whole weather cold. The road ahead couldn’t be seen because of the…
April 07, 2021
General Stories Joshua Santiago

Until We Meet Again

Dedicated to my nieces Natasha and Anayah. Uncle Joshy loves both of you immensely. Also dedicated to my older sister Alisha. You’ll never be alone. (page 1) It was a moist, cool, rainy September night. I had already gotten my things ready for work tomorrow…
April 02, 2021
Flash Fiction José Acosta

Bush Of Ghosts

Crowds Almost all the decisions we make in our daily lives have more to do with automatized rituals than with autonomous acts, much less with gestures of freedom. Our days are more-or-less predetermined by the voracious demands of the economic system. Since…
April 02, 2021
General Stories Jack Karolewski


Nobody knew his real name, or even where he came from. He had seven different passports at any given time, and spoke eight languages fluently. He went by the names Simon Hunter, Miguel Torres, Ivan Borodin, Spiro Kallis, Sergio Cavetti, Turget Bayar, or…

“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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