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Latest Stories

January 01, 2020
Romance Stories P.D. Ravel

What I Always Dreamed

I can feel you through my skin. You are the one who dictates my feelings, the one who knows all my fears, and the one who makes me recognize that I like this man next to me. But what you don’t quite understand is that in this reality you are not the only one…
January 01, 2020
Fantasy Stories Tom Sheehan

Work of Ages, Work of Comets

The tip of the shovel had talked to him with a dull thud, not just through his ears, but totally. It came into his hands and up the stiffness of his arms, through the quick riot of nerves on red alert, through all passageways of recognition. It was wood! At…
December 29, 2019
Mystery Stories Christian Mc Culloch

The Changing Tide

The bell on the tramp steamer called out into the thick fog. A single bell from the buoy off to starboard replied. Somewhere there were stars beyond the grey blanket. The ship nosed forward. The bells spoke to each other. Mor'thn Weeds pulled the collar of…
December 29, 2019
General Stories Alan Peat

The Belated Present

I know he’s here somewhere on what I call my Restitution List. E, F, ah here we go the G’s. Glockner, Gobomo, Gomez, Greengrass. Gerald Greengrass. Present wrapped all ready for transit. Special delivery. Job almost done. Maybe I should explain what my…
December 29, 2019
Mystery Stories Bruce Stirling


Wyoming, 1905 Sam built up the fire, then hit the blanket. He was drifting off when he heard a low rumbling off in the distance. He grabbed his Winchester and scrambled up to the top of a low ridge. From there, with the sun sinking low, he took in the…
December 29, 2019
General Stories Jason Reed

On Love and Death

Part 1 At ninety-five George's knees supplied defiant resistance whenever he went upstairs. This morning was no different but here he was at the top landing - surveying the hall and doorways for a clue as to why he was up there. "Glasses!" He said with a snap…
December 29, 2019
General Stories W. Giersbach

Working Woman's Wife

I couldn’t get rid of the vendor on line 1, there was a call hanging on line 2, I was ten minutes late for a conference call from Tokyo, and the Senior VP of Finance was tapping his foot in my doorway. Worse, I had just spilled a four dollar latte on my white…
December 29, 2019
Flash Fiction André Goiuyneau

The Sock

Dear Madam, Further to your advertisement, and having myself lost a sock one day, I can reveal all the consequences of this loss to you. I searched for the lost one, its sister in my hand, until weary of the battle I sat down, thoughtful. Why did I not just…
July 10, 2019
Romance Stories John L.Yelavich

Saccharine Smiles and Sandpaper Personalities

What is the most powerful force in the universe? Is it atomic fusion, military might, volcanoes, tsunamis or any other natural disaster? No, they are not. None of them can create havoc and paranoia in man any more than love can. Yes, love is the force that is…
July 10, 2019
Crime Stories J.B.Stevens

A Good Man

Jimmy hated feeling the delicate orbital bones splinter, but he didn’t have a choice. He needed to be free. It was unfortunate. Just the wrong place, wrong time. If he was out he could send money to Sarah. That’s what all this was all about, helping his…
July 10, 2019
Fantasy Stories Roger Ley

Turing Test

Mr Riley liked to start his day in the library. It was a short walk from his house and conveniently situated at the top of the main street in the Suffolk market town that he and his wife had retired to. When they’d first arrived, he’d joined the local writing…
July 10, 2019
Romance Stories Patric Quinn

Where or When

The front doorbell sounded its gentle Westminster Chimes and the thumping on the door started before Hazel even put her pen down on the papers she was working on intently. More curious than annoyed, she stopped writing, shrugged and started for the door.…



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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