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Latest Stories

March 08, 2024
Flash Fiction Benoit

Some Enchanted Evening

It was a rugby tackle with tears: Chrissy burst in, sobbing and babbling, hugging James. Her face was all wet, eyes wild. What…? My parents split up, Dad has moved in with his boyfriend and I cannot join them. I am shut out. I have lost my dad. Torrent of…
March 08, 2024
Horror Stories Marvel Chukwudi Pephel

In The Hands Of My Legs

The car pulled up in front of the large salon. The neon sign, that sexy broad thing, on the salon'sroof read "Mr. Gil's All-night Salon". The exhaust pipe of the car was pumping solid smoke, theswirls moving from the car and towards the salon.…
March 07, 2024
Mystery Stories Vanessa Leigh Giles

Casualty of Love in the Time of Coronavirus

Chapter 1 Until Death do us Part ‘Ring, ring!’. I answered the telephone and asked, “Hello, good evening. Who’s this? “Hello.” This is Dr. Smith from Red Cross hospital. “Is this Mr. Locke, John?”, he asked, hesitantly scratching his bald head. “Yes, doctor.…
March 07, 2024
Crime Stories Robert Pook

Bar Room Trigger

Another return journey on footpaths so familiar. He strides across each crack in each paving stone. Regular loose drain covers sidestepped. Mapping long ago mapped in Richard’s desolate mind. His pace hastened by the sight of the oncoming storm. Quickening…
March 04, 2024
Horror Stories Ano Chinemerem

Sanctity

Where should I begin? I could begin by telling you about this comely boy, whom every notable person around the streets agrees his smile could charm the bills off one. Between one smile, there was his goodness, his dreams and humanity—a little far ahead?— but…
March 04, 2024
Flash Fiction Emanuel Diaz

Et Mortui Partium

As Rafael stepped out into the rain, it wasn't the ordinary drops that fell from the sky. Instead, it was a storm of souls, each one taking the form of shimmering jewelry as it cascaded toward the ground. Rubies, diamonds, and sapphires twinkled amidst the…
February 29, 2024
Poetry Jing Li Ava

London

‘Am I in London?’ "I am." Where is Elizabeth? Happy living story All of your chapter Bounlance joy Please my heart Power hand Wise mind Our baby Vow vow Love all love Miss I miss Endless wonder Bring us together Love all love Miss I miss For everything My…
February 29, 2024
Flash Fiction Rob Pook

Life Sentence of The Smith

Born nine months after his country won the World Cup.A child prodigy.Cast off at age twenty-four.Husband, father, emigree, away on the other side of the world.The blue-collar life.The dreams of success.The search for fulfillment.The long years of empty…
February 29, 2024
Mystery Stories Joshua Lowther

The Operator

Jason looked over to his right, his eyes barely able to focus themselves on the subject of his attention. His neck ached terribly from the strenuous movement. He was tired. The captain’s gaze came to rest on the rookie sonar operator sitting tense at his…
February 29, 2024
Flash Fiction Salvatore Difalco

The Chute

At dusk, we left our unit with a soft pink bundle. I carried it through the wet streets and into the black woods. I said I’d take it all the way, the bundle, but that we had to drop it in together. My wife’s green eyes flashed. “Don’t make me do that.” I…
February 29, 2024
Fantasy Stories Marvel Chukwudi Pephel

Tragopolis

In the heart of a vast and mysterious forest lay a city like no other – Tragopolis. It was a fablesque city hidden from the prying eyes of the outside world. It was a place where secrets bloomed as bountifully as the surrounding flora. It was a city where…
February 15, 2024
Science Fiction Stories Jasnoor

Ethan Sheldon's Death

<< Ethan Sheldon’s [Deceased] Brain Autopsy >> Damn, this one's going to be a long one—an all-nighter mopping the floors in this creepy ass place. There is no music or sound except the splashing noise of cleaning fluid. I'm in a hallway; there's nothing to…

The winter of 1827 in Vienna was savage and relentless, and life in his tiny apartment had become almost unbearable for him. On occasions, even the ink froze in its pot and he would be driven back into his bed in a desperate attempt to keep warm. The little money he had received for the first set of twelve songs had long gone, and he was now without food, without heating, and several weeks in arrears with his rent.

Schubert's dear friend, Vogel, had called to encourage him, to set down his quill for a while, and join friends in the coffee house. And after some persuasion, he had reluctantly agreed. In the Cafe Adler, he found warmth and jollity with his friends, but his mind was tormented by the song he had been working on, bouncing from the walls of his creative genius demanding to be set free. Schubert did his best to relax and participate, but his friends soon realised what was happening; they had seen this happen before. Vogel left the group and after a brief conversation with the cafe owner, returned to the table with a quill and ink pot, and set them down in front of his friend. Schubert smiled, picked up the quill, dipped it carefully into the ink pot, and set to work on the tablecloth.

The fascinated silence that had fallen around the table, as Schubert scratched frantically at the cloth was abruptly shattered as the cafe door burst open, and a blast of winter air heralded the arrival of Beethoven. Squat, gaunt and totally deaf, Beethoven shuffled off into a corner completely oblivious of his surroundings and demanded coffee of the approaching waiter. As the waiter scurried away, Beethoven dropped a pile of manuscripts onto his table and began scowling at them through his eyeglasses.

Vogel looked across the room at Beethoven, now totally immersed in his manuscripts, looked back at his friend Schubert, now similarly immersed in a world of his own and smiled at his fellow witnesses. They all instinctively recognised an utterly unique moment in history when two of the greatest composers the world would ever know were sitting feet apart, totally immersed in their work and totally oblivious of each other. Unknown to everyone, both were beginning their final Winter journeys.

Some days later, Franz Schubert wearily climbed the steps to the second floor apartment of his publisher, Tobias Haslinger. It was yet another bitterly cold February morning; his threadbare clothing totally inadequate for such conditions. He had been working frantically through the night; wholly possessed by the desire to commit his latest composition to manuscript. He had no time for sleep, or for food, or for any other mortal pleasure. Though, racked by illness, hunger and cold, his tiny frame had been cocooned from earthly trauma by an inner serenity; a serenity he had been blessed with since birth. This tiny, insignificant, unkempt, and mortally ill genius was again delivering heavenly music from the angels.

'My dear Schubert,' gasped Haslinger as he opened his door, 'you look absolutely dreadful. Come in; come in, and set yourself by the fire.'

Schubert, more than grateful to do so, perched himself carefully by the roaring log fire, taking an instant, yet dulled pleasure from its welcome heat. He set down his battered manuscript case against his feet, and with a corner of his worn cravat, slowly began to cleanse his tiny rimless spectacles of their condensation.

'I see you bring me more of your joyful and heavenly music, Franz. Dare I hope that you have completed the second twelve songs of your 'Winter Journey'?'

Schubert carefully replaced his tiny frameless spectacles and stared into the fire. His frozen features had now slowly melted into a distant expression of absolute contentment.

'Herr Haslinger, my long and often painful 'Winter Journey' is finally completed. I fear that I have said everything that our good Lord will permit.'

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