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Latest Stories

September 28, 2022
Poetry Paweł Markiewicz

Autumnal Sonnet

The mist heralds a dreamy, tender Apollonian dawn. I philosophize about wings of hawk or king – sparrow. In amazing grove at the Blue Hours – was born here a fawn. You should adore as well as praise charm such a moony morn. The beauty of world is indeed so…
September 28, 2022
Crime Stories Peter Greenhall

Naughty Boy Series, Chapter 3: Friendships

The Skirmish - 1991 This was the place to be in the city of Shortland. Anyone who wanted to be someone was there, as was the someone who was known by everyone too. It was a gorgeous hot summer afternoon, on a Sunday. The pub garden was huge, and scattered…
September 28, 2022
Poetry Paweł Markiewicz

Flower-Like Sonnet

I cherish the dreamy crocus. I love the moony cornflower. I make love to bemused cactus. I affect dreamed daffodil. You are fond of vague elder. You love back a misty dahlia. You dote on languorous heather. You idolize the faint freesia. We prize hazy…
September 28, 2022
Flash Fiction NT Franklin

Smitty Gets Away

Smitty was where he wasn’t supposed to be and saw it all. Diamond Bill and two of his goons roughed up a fella, but it was the boss that shot the fella once in the head and twice in the chest. It was at that time he stopped trying to pry open the back door to…
September 28, 2022
Crime Stories Peter Greenhall

Naughty Boy Series, Chapter 14: The Proposition

February 2004 Jason was very tempted to go to the ladyboy bar, named 'Jenny's'. The music was always very good, a buzzing crowd, and some stunning looking lady boy's were there as well. He looked up and saw a load of girl's, well men, dancing on poles and…
September 28, 2022
Poetry Paweł Markiewicz

The Flower-Like Second Sonnet

I conceive the brilliant lilac. I build admirable holly. I design pleasant marigold. I constitute pleasing lily. You devise outstanding iris. You discover awesome poppy. You establish fine orchid. You forge an amazing pansy. She forms surprising peony. She…
September 25, 2022
Fantasy Stories Peter Greenhall

Energy, Volume II

Summer 1992 "Mummy, when I see Graham Alexander play football, I see fire inside his stomach. It burns really brightly, it's very nice to see". Hilary could see her daughter picture the image in her mind, completely fascinated by what she had witnessed…
September 25, 2022
Crime Stories Peter Greenhall

Naughty Boy Series, Chapter 2: The Brookies

September 2000 JJ entered Angie's bar to meet his potential new supplier, in an area of Brookbourne he'd never been to before, called Rippon. He was confident his connection to this guy was safe so he wasn't nervous about the person being an informer, or…
September 25, 2022
General Stories Lawrence Hartmann

God: A Dating App Adventure

“I won’t be hard to miss,” He had said on the phone. Well, He was right. When I got to our assigned meeting place – a Burger King on the outskirts of town – I could see Him from the parking lot: this incredibly bright, white light, there in the corner of the…
September 20, 2022
Poetry Peter Greenhall

Tribute to Queen Elizabeth II. RIP.

As you lay you to rest, in your final state, Westminster, UK, The World, Demonstrate, Your purpose, Your sense of duty, Was clear to see, Let's not forget, your family As time ticks towards the eleventh hour of the day, The funeral, The service, Melancholy. A…
September 20, 2022
Crime Stories Peter Greenhall

Naughty Boy Series: Chapter 8. Stamping Authority

 This was it, it was now or never. He knew this day was coming, he'd have to fight 'Big Ryan', the guy everyone said couldn't be beat. They all walked out of his apartment, all serious faced, not knowing if the fight would spill over and some of 'Big Ryan's'…
September 20, 2022
Flash Fiction Ava

Emotional Unstable

IS THERE ANY PLACE THAT I CAN STUDY IN? “Breakfast time.” White toasts with a slice of cucumber, a slice of tomato, half spoon of orange marmalade and a vegan sausage. A boiled egg. Granola with yoghurt with granola with yoghurt with corn flakes. A glass of…

Whether Alice was murdered by Len or not remained a dark question mark hanging in 


my mind like the gallows. I cannot be certain of anything regarding her, her fantasy life

boundless. But, this I’m certain: Tonight, two women shared a double bed, Alice secure

with my hands tightly holding her uplifted buttocks. I shared

my life now with Alice, not Len.

I have a restraining order against him from coming near my house. Two weeks so far

without his jealous threats because he left town. We lived in a restored Victorian thanks

to the pricey meals at the vegetarian restaurant, people craving unadulterated food and

non-hazardous lives.

“I bought a rabbit I named Wobbly today. It’s in the basement, protected behind a wire

cage,” Alice said a few minutes after she plunged a ribbed vibrator into my Ms. V,

tickling my clit for what seemed hours of pleasure. “I fed him carrots tops, Swiss chard,

and broccoli this afternoon.” I owned Riff’s, a vegetarian restaurant. I let Alice order

anything from Riff’s menu, including food for Wobbly. I saved her from the dark

streets, strange men, and death at an early age.

The pressure from Len’s reappearance dissipated, the emotional valve releasing

most of it. “If you see Len before I do, holler.”

“A sorceress might help him get over his hurt, work on his spiritual double” she said.

Men like Len having a double meant twice the trouble, I no longer his sexually abused


“Sorcerers can’t heal beans, you now. Len’s a bad omen, a hurricane waiting to

drown us.” She smiled and went downstairs with bok choy for Wobbly. She came

back and read a fantasy novel. Looking up, she said:

“I sang an Enya song to Wobbly and he shook all over he was so pleased.”

“Sweet, if you see Len call me at Riff’s, kick my butt if I’m napping on the cushions

after a long day.”

“I really love The Sweet Far Thing, Gemma entering the Realms where anything

magical happens,” she said. “I love it when you call me ‘Sweet’.”

How comforting Alice’s nickname was, the one I gave her. It soothed to me when I

called her that. “Listen, Len’s the opposite of fantasy. He’s hardboiled and dangerous.

Stay clear of him.”

“A wizard petted Wobbly, Sue. His hands huge yet gentle. When I told him Wobbly

said to me, ‘Watch it, girlie, trouble brewing’, he squeezed Wobbly’s neck too hard.”

“Len, here?” I said disbelieving, her words’ fuzzy. “When I’m at Riff’s, don’t let

anyone in, that means Len.”

“I raised my shirt, the red and green one you bought me, to distract him and he

patted Wobbly’s soft white fur, and handed Wobbly to me and then touched my bare

breasts.” What went on in the basement? Damn, Len could get in through the exterior

door, steps leading down to the basement. He had the special key.

“Will you?” A demand more than a question. She nodded and walked upstairs to her

reading room. I let the talking rabbit business pass, Alice’s delusions as good as reading

novels. She had hundreds neatly shelved in a room on the third floor. A hour later she

went to the basement to feed Wobbly mustard greens.

“He told me he wanted to see more of me next time, giving me a wizard’s blink

blink, raising a fistful of starlight, saying he’d throw a lightening bolt at Wobbly if I


Just then, my smartphone’s email pinged the first few notes of Christine Harnische’s

Etude Pathetique Opus 124 composed by Cecile Chaminade. She loved Enya’s fantasy

songs. Picture Y, two slanting lines our musical divergences. Those same slanted lines

meeting that upright line marked our conjoined exposed men in a boat. She fingered her

clit and that excited me and I wanted her hot friction. She was young while I was middle-

aged, my face wrinkled.

“Shit, Len’s in town,” I said after reading his email. Her face flushed as if sexually

aroused while Len stomped out my desire.

“I told the truth and you thought it was dreaminess and didn’t believe me.”

She went back to her reading room. I slept and woke up with a start. It was 3:30 a.m.

and no Alice. I checked upstairs and she wasn’t there. She took her mobile. My

smartphone did the Christine Harnische ringtone. The email read:

We listened to Enya’s, “Someone Said Goodbye” and then he

turned me into hot churned butter with his plunger. He won’t

bother you anymore. Didn’t we have fun, our wild sex so good?

He put a spell on me and turned me into cold, cold weather from

which I might not return. I’ll gift you something from the other

side. Don’t wait up for me, Susie Q.

I hit Alice’s reply five times, each bounced back: Mail System Error-Returned Mail,

Message undeliverable. The next morning I opened a bright, shiny box on my way to

Riff’s. Wobbly’s bloody head was inside.


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