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Latest Stories

November 19, 2021
Flash Fiction Russ Bickerstaff


It’s the little things. That something was wrong. But he couldn’t figure out what it was. And maybe it was the bed and the direction it was amazing. There was a problem with one of the club shops in one hand. Maybe with the thread count of the sheets. Or…
November 18, 2021
General Stories Matty LibraWolf

Haunting Stories Of The Visionaries

On a snowy mistrustful night, a newborn Skully Doyle, who was fast asleep in his cot, his visionary confused himself getting abducted from a Demonic Apparition. A woman called White Widow owns a three-headed dog called Cerberus Trio. This woman was a Satanist…
November 12, 2021
Mystery Stories Glenn Dungan

Gosh Darn It I’m Wet!

Alright fine. Okay, so the rubber duck bobs in the water, ignorant of the vapor steaming from the pool and rising to the banisters and balustrades in the warehouse. It wears a yellow raincoat and holds in a cartoonish way an umbrella inscribed with the words…
November 12, 2021
General Stories Michael McCarthy


‘‘Whiskeeee!’’ She ducked as the chunky glass came flying across the room, minuscule droplets of the alcohol splattering her cheek. She’d become quite adroit at dodging his missiles. But she couldn’t avoid his booze ravaged rasp. ‘‘When I call for a whisky,…
November 05, 2021
Flash Fiction Benoit


Therese Synopsis Rich parents are not everything. Therese is alone. She gambles on marriage when the chance arises, and lands in court on a murder charge. Therese Bordeaux France, 1952 Therese is not normal. She's not fun and has no friends. She finds…
November 05, 2021
General Stories Lawrence Hartmann

The Quiet World

The Pennsylvania mountains surrounded the small car with majesty and grace. “When I die, scatter my ashes here,” said Roger, the driver. “Ok,” said Paul. The two were married, five years now. They had met one summer day at the Macy’s store on State Street in…
November 03, 2021
Crime Stories Benoit


Synopsis – Mistaken identity can be inconvenient, even fatal. I was still dizzy when they brought me into the office. Sharp suits meet hospital smock. Bloody. I could not hear much. The crash and concussion, no doubt. They were smiling, trying to be nice.…
November 03, 2021
Horror Stories Derek-Avery Patz

Movie Night

Here I text him. His profile notified me that he likes cheeseburgers; it’s our second date and Jumpin’ Jacks has the best cheeseburgers around. Gavin is the real deal, or so the twins say he is. Elizabeth and Alyssa are fixtures in this small shithole of a…
September 25, 2021
General Stories NT Franklin

Coming Home

While Rupert paced in the parking lot, a cool spring breeze went down the back of his neck and made him shiver. Or was the shiver from having to go into the boss’s office? He had issues with male authority figures, or so his last work-ordered therapist had…
September 25, 2021
Flash Fiction Sandeep

Space Age Agency

Today I want to write about a nice story about OutSpace Consulting Pvt Ltd. that hired me to work for a Space Age Aeronautics Frontier (SAAF). To create a new vehicle and technology for managing their database, missions, research and exploration endeavors.…
September 13, 2021
General Stories Kasimir Kozlowski

An Understanding

1 The sharp halogen beams of the Greyhound bus cut a swath of light across the white frozen tundra of the flatlands nearing a small town outside of Winnipeg, and the passengers are beginning to get a little restless. Henry also stirs to life. He’s been…
September 13, 2021
Fantasy Stories Abdulla Ameen

That Memorable Quest

Beneath the starlit sky, which not only had that dark blue shade but also a purple tone, with stars lying flat on the vivid plain, was the cavern he chose to spend the night. The hillside was riskier in the dark and that was the only thought that made him…

Dan Wolmare awoke at his regular time.  He didn’t know yet it was going to be anything but a regular day.  He crawled out of bed and went through his regular routine--took a piss, read the morning paper, ate a blueberry muffin with margarine, and had one cup of coffee.

After all that was out of the way, he puttered around his bachelor apartment straightening things as he went.  When he came to the TV he flicked it on; CNBC popped up on the big screen.  He glanced at it for a bit, tore himself away and headed back to the bedroom.  He analyzed the unmade bed for a time, turned and walked back to the kitchen.

Dan glanced at the stack of paperwork on the kitchen table that needed attention.  It was business related; he worked on it everyday.  He had to, in his business there was no other way.  But instead of jumping right on it, there was one more little thing he had to do first.  It also was something he did every day, although he didn’t consciously realize it.  He walked to the door that led out of his apartment, craned his head out, and placed his right eye to the small peephole that gave him a fish-eye view of the hallway outside his door.

And today, as always, he saw nothing unusual...at first.  He was peeking directly across from his basement level apartment at the door to the building’s common area laundry room.  He had to blink his eye twice and stretch it open wide because this time he did see something move.  He peered hard.  It was the laundry room door...and it was moving, very slowly, open.

Dan stared, his eye pressed tightly against the peephole, as the laundry door inched open, wider and wider.  He could feel his heart begin to beat more rapidly, and his palms, which were pressed flat against the door at shoulder height, were sweating.

The door continued to move until it was more than a foot ajar, then it stopped.  Dan licked his dry lips and watched in shock as a head slowly emerged from the laundry room and peered out from around the door.  The head was hosting long, black, greasy hair; a wild, full beard and what seemed to Dan a dangerous, paranoid look in its eyes.  Shoulders and then a chest came into view, and by the look of them they belonged to a very large man.  And now that man was looking intently at Dan’s apartment door.  And Dan, of course, knew instinctively who this person was--a cop or a rip-off, that was for sure.  Didn’t matter which.  Both equally bad news.

As the big man stepped completely from behind the door now, Dan spotted the butt of a pistol protruding from the waist of the man’s pants.  Dan’s hand shot to the deadbolt; it was secured.  But that didn’t ease his concern because he knew the door could never stand up to this man’s weight.  He continued to look through the peephole at the threat only a few feet away.  The man didn’t move; he kept his eyes locked on Dan’s door.  Dan’s breathing became deeper and faster and he thought it sounded louder now.  He tried to control it, imagining the big man might actually hear it.

Dan, worried that his nerves might get the best of him, pulled his face from the door.  Told himself to calm down.  He could handle this; he knew he could.  After all, it was nothing more than an occupational hazard, not that that made it any easier.  Of course, a blue valium would’ve been nice now, but he was going to have to deal with this without that aid.  And without it his mind raced wondering who among the many people he’d done business with recently had put the finger on him?  He shook his head, no time for that now.  He’d find out later and deal with that too.  Right now the immediate danger was outside, staring at his door, getting ready to make some type of move.

Dan’s eye had only been away from the peephole for a minute when he returned to it and, to his horror, found himself looking into the man’s face which was now only inches away from the apartment’s door.

Dan backed away from the door in shock.  His movements were on automatic-pilot now.  He watched in terror as the knob on his door turned slowly and quietly back and forth.  Thank God for the deadbolt, he thought.

He turned and moved quietly to the kitchen, picked up his cell phone and punched in 911.  After a few seconds, Dan, his voice shaking, whispered into the phone, “This is Ken Holland.  I’m at 13 Seaside Lane, Building 3, Hampton Beach.  Yeah, New Hampshire.  There’s a man with a gun trying to break into apartments.  He’s just gone down to the basement.  Hurry.  Please.”  He gingerly set the phone down on his paperwork.

He headed swiftly but quietly back to the apartment door and easily placed his eye to the peephole as if it might be hot.  The man was still there, but back now about a foot from the door.  Dan looked at the man, and the man looked at the door.  He watched as the big man removed the handgun from his waist and held it down by his side.  Dan tried to swallow, but couldn’t; it was like a baseball was caught in his throat.

They kept it up, Dan waiting for the big man to make his inevitable move, unless...suddenly Dan could hear the squealing of tires and the slamming of car doors.  The big man heard the commotion too, his head jerking sideways toward the front door of the building at the sounds.  Then he looked back at Dan’s door, a look of bewilderment on his face as if he wasn’t sure what was happening or what he should do about it.  The man turned quickly and Dan watched as he bounded up the stairs and out of sight.  He heard the building’s heavy front door swing open, and he knew the man was running outside to the parking lot.

In what seemed like only an instant Dan heard an excited voice shout, “Stop.  Police.”  And a second voice, also excited, “Don’t shoot I’m...”  Then he heard a gunshot.  Within seconds a flurry of more shots.  Then more shouts.  Then quiet.  Deadly quiet.

Dan dashed to his bedroom.  He opened his closet door, reached in and pulled out a battered, brown attache case.  He put on a pair of sneakers, tied them, and threw on a light jacket.  He could hear sirens now, growing louder, closer.

He grabbed the attache case and walked hurriedly to the kitchen, grabbing the stack of papers off the kitchen table and jamming them into his coat pocket.  He moved swiftly to the front door, shifted the deadbolt, opened the door, and stepped into the hallway.  He closed the door behind him, banged a right and headed for the building’s rear door.

He stepped out into the sunlight; it was a beautiful day.  He walked down the steps and followed the asphalt walkway around the building until he emerged out front.  Over to his right, in the parking lot, he could see a half-dozen police cars, marked and unmarked.  Closer, at the bottom of the stairs to his building’s front door, stood a semi-circle of policemen standing over what he knew was a body on the pavement.  An ambulance, is lights flashing, was pulling up to the group.

Dan hurried along, heading left, away from the police and toward a row of cars parked near the building on the opposite side of his.  As he walked at a controlled pace across the parking lot he recognized a neighbor coming from the direction of all the activity.  Their paths intersected.

“What happened?” Dan asked breathlessly, the attache case held at his side.

“I guess some cops just shot another cop,” the neighbor answered.  “An undercover cop.”

“You mean they shot one of their own?  A police officer?”

“I guess they didn’t realize who he was,” the neighbor said, shaking his head sadly.  “The guy looked like a bum.”

“Jesus, that’s tragic.  You never know what’s going to happen nowadays.”  Dan popped the trunk of his car and tossed the attache case into it.  He closed the trunk gently and walked around to the driver’s side.  He hopped in, started the engine, and then he slowly drove the car through the parking lot, driving respectfully around the multitude of police personnel.


The End

Jed Power is a Hampton Beach, NH based writer and an “Active” member of Mystery Writers of America.  His second novel in the Dan Marlowe crime series, “Hampton Beach Homicide,” is now out in both e-versions and Trade Paper.




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