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Latest Stories

August 09, 2020
General Stories Schubert

The Last Shift

Danny switched on the kitchen light and peered at the clock on the wall above the cooker. It was 5.10am, the middle of Winter and two hours before the central heating came on. Butch opened one bloodshot eye, gave Danny a token wag, sighed and settled down…
August 09, 2020
Flash Fiction Andrei Sisman

Drop, Drop,Drop

Balance, in all things, the monk thought, his face calm and serene, as pea-sized drops of rain pounded the surface of his scalp like a drum. The world around him buzzed with static, yet his mind was like a lake on a summer day. He assumed the lotus position,…
August 09, 2020
Crime Stories Leroy B. Vaughn

Where'd Shirley Go?

He thought he was going to throw up as he staggered to his feet and headed towards the bathroom. Rasmussen splashed water on his face and drank water by cupping his hands and drinking from the faucet. He went back to his bedroom and looked around for Shirley,…
August 09, 2020
General Stories Stephen Faulkner

How It Was

I have often been asked how it was, how it came to be that I did what I did in the way that I did it. Often I will tell whoever has asked such a question that I have been driving for over thirty years and I have always been a very good and conscientious…
July 26, 2020
General Stories Lucy Maybelle

A Reputable Reptile Establishment

“When it feels like your world is ending, maybe it’s just beginning.” This I read in some tone-deaf article about the current state of the world; the equivalent of “keep your chin up!” for the modern depressive. And I wish I could believe it. Truly, I do. I…
July 26, 2020
Mystery Stories John Brady

Winter's Walk

White ribbons in a white landscape. The county doesn’t sand the roads except where they meet and that doesn’t happen much, so the snow gets packed down hard and stays. It won’t melt till spring. Climate change fucks up the weather lots of places but not up…
July 26, 2020
Fantasy Stories Michael Thirlaway

Waveless Ocean

The sailless ship glided smoothly across the waveless ocean. Captain Blake Osric looked over at the crew, each performing their mundane tasks, confused at how the ship was moving without wind. The vast smooth sea stretched in all directions, endless. It…
July 25, 2020
Flash Fiction C Alexis

For Hire

I was sitting, sipping my coffee, swiping my iPhone, when my eyes focused on the cork bulletin board immediately to my right. At the top, in black upper case letters were the words, “For Hire.” One particular card drew me to its interesting font, which looked…
July 25, 2020
Fantasy Stories Charles West

A New Prometheus

“Sit here, Mary, there is someone I want you to meet,” Jane said. “Who?” “You will see. It is someone famous. You will be very impressed.” Mary deferred to her step sister and sat down. There was another vacant chair with a small round table between them.…
July 25, 2020
Romance Stories Patric Quinn

Life on West 4th Street

"Hey, good evening, Frank. How’s the Farrell column going." "Going pretty good today, Pipes. Just finished. I know it’s late, but I just felt like coming out for awhile. Say hello if you were working." "Coming down here, 4th Street?" Pipes’ smile showed he…
July 25, 2020
Flash Fiction Walt Giersbach

The Lawyer Saw Green Until He met Red

Our Tullahoma Tigers weren’t all that hot as a football team. Or even lukewarm, but it was the last thing holding our dying town together now that the mill is closing. However, the real reason all the townspeople close up their shops and houses and come out…
July 19, 2020
Fantasy Stories Katya Kastro

The Year The Virus Came [Editor's Choice]

Lily was annoyed and upset. Her mom switched her virtual reality helmet into school mode and while Lily’s friends were chilling on some Australian or Brazilian beach, she was locked in her room. Lily’s mom won’t unblock the helmet until the homework is done.…



Do people who've gone insane recognize the changes they've gone through that got them where they are? What I mean to say is do they know they are going crazy? Are they helpless to the events happening to their minds? Or are they oblivious to the events, making their life an ever morphing horror movie? Both sound very intriguing, I don't think I could choose one way or another. I think the journey alone is an adventure worth experiencing. Which brings me to the paradoxical question am I sane? Conventionally no, but I understand this. This is why I will choose and not allow time or fate to make a choice for me.

I have an overwhelming amount of hate growing inside me, though I am not sure who the hate is meant for. I hate me, for allowing myself to be the butt of every joke and the punching bag for every degenerate and miscreant of my town. And I hate all of them, not for what they have done to me but at the end of the day, in their eyes I don't exist. How can someone who has lived here their whole lives, and taken so much abuse not exist. The mail man who broke my nose while in a drunken rage, didn't deliver my mail for three weeks because he didn't realize someone lived in my house. He thought it was abandoned. The mailman is my neighbor.

So today I load every magazine, And oil every firearm, I tie my boots tight and prepare to make them recognize me. Machiavelli proposed an interesting choice. Wether you want to be feared or loved. I lost the capability to love long ago. Today I practice fear.

As I walked out of my house draped with 2 pistols, a semi-automatic rifle and a 12 gauge pump shotgun, I was ready. When I made it to the street, I was startled by a man sprinting towards me like a rabid dog. Swallowing my fear deep into the pit of my stomach, I raised my Colt .45 caliber 1911 and fired at the man. The loud noise of the shot made me jump, so much so I almost dropped my pistol. So shaken up by the power of the pistol itself, I almost forgot to look at the damage done to the attacking citizen. The round had hit the man in his left elbow severing it from the joint, the rest of his forearm now hanging on by a small piece of flesh. In the 3 seconds it would have taken the man to reach me by this point, I had a full conversation with myself. How did the round not stop the man immediately? The shock from something like that would surly incapacitate anyone. I fired again hitting the man in his chest. The force from the round knock the man of his feet, yet the man was not dead. As my tunnel vision dissipates I can clearly see my surrounding, the fog of hatred made my senses dull. The man was disfigured, it looked as if he was mauled on the neck and face. I shot him a third time, this time in the head. He ceased to move any longer.

It figured, the day I choose to take the lives of my fellow town people, they had turned to zombies. This is the best conclusion based on the most current of events. At this moment I wonder if this is an hallucination; a symptom of my pending insanity. I continue onward. The noise of the three shots had drawn the attention of more living dead. Pulling the rifle off my shoulder I began shooting, aiming high in hope of head shots. Almost simultaneously from my right I heard screaming. And out of the corner of my eye I saw a young woman being mauled by the dead. She became a zombie immediately and started looking for her next living meal. I need to remember this! Walking the town I must have killed hundreds of zombies. It had seemed if I had killed them all. If anyone was still alive I would be considered a hero, if they saw what I was doing and how I saved the world I would be famous. I would be noticed. And maybe loved.

From where I was standing I could see a man sitting hunched over near the doors of town hall. As I got closer it was someone I knew and some what respected, he had a needle in his arm. A definite overdose. I kicked his foot and the man tried to move but was unable to get to his feet. With its arms raised he tried his best to grab me and try to make me his next meal. I decided to make this kill for mercy and not for my own personal gratification. I put the last bullet that I was saving for myself in the event of an emergency, through his head and removed the needle. From the door next to me I heard whispers. It sounded like people were hiding out waiting for the National Guard. One of the more desperate patrons inside opened the door to see if help was outside. It was my mailman. He asked who I was and if I was there to help them. He continued to explain how there were hundreds inside and the place was heavily fortified. As I walked inside and my mailman chained and locked the front door, I jammed the needle that was still in my hand into my thigh. Now I will show them fear.




My name is Thomas Berman, I have been a fan of horror my entire life. Horror for me is a way to live out my darkest and deepest fantasy. I encourage everyone to try to write and never let anyone tell you what you are doing is foolish or dumb. It is foolish or dumb NOT TO TRY. Life is for the living, do what makes you happy.



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