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Latest Stories

February 06, 2026
General Stories Thomas Turner

The Lost Williamsen

Coming back from Switzerland, after my wife died, was pretty hard, but I made it. When I landed in LaGuardia airport. I went to go get my luggage. That's where my brother Eddie was, to pick me up and to see the rest of the family. Eddie comes over to me and…
February 06, 2026
Horror Stories Tom Kropp

Killing & Carnage

The sun was a blood lurid red slipping below the jagged peaks of the Redmount Mountains. For Shannon, its fading light was not a promise of rest, but a countdown to her dark side.​ She pressed her spine against the damp, crumbling limestone of a marketplace…
February 06, 2026
Poetry Markus J

2 Aussie Limericks 2 Aussie Clerihews

once a aussie yobbo named pete who only wore thongs on his feet a bunion grew on his toes and a red wart on his nose over were his days at the beach ------------------------------------------------------ there once was a jackaroo who went by the name of blue…
February 02, 2026
Flash Fiction Matias Travieso-Diaz

My Second Middle Name

San Lázaro no quiere palabras, quiere hechos. Popular Cuban refrain A few hours after I was born, my parents had a conversation regarding my name. The usual practice in Cuba, as in many other countries, was that a baby would have two given names apart from…
February 02, 2026
General Stories Thomas Turner

Year One

T J Tuner, Sonny Turner and Curt Chown January 4, 1976- Ocean avenue, Brooklyn New York: Sonny and his wife are having coffee at 5pm Sunday. His wife’s name is Candy. This is when Candy asks ‘When are they picking you up?’ Sonny says ‘7:30 pm.’ Candy asks…
February 02, 2026
Horror Stories Tom Kropp

Werewolf Bar Brawl

Shannon returned to the main street and boldly approached the cantina. At the doorway, one of the burly guards boldly said, "We don't allow no outside whores in here. Only Diego's girls are allowed to work here." "Don't insult me. I'm not a whore. I just…
February 02, 2026
Flash Fiction Matias Travieso-Diaz

The Self-Serving Giraffe

Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live. Oscar Wilde Grumpff was a Somali giraffe male (Giraffa reticulata) in a herd that inhabited a dry savannah in northern Kenya. He was eighteen feet tall and two…
February 02, 2026
Poetry Markus J

An Aussie Had A Barry Crocker

once an Aussie had a Barry Crocker when he got fined from an angry copper he smoked up his golden ute then said it was real beaut because of this, the fine was made double and his best mate was nicked named blue cooked kangaroo and emu stew gave none to…
February 02, 2026
Crime Stories Shane Horton

Super Detectives (Queen Bee)

The smoke of my cigarette dances on the fire of its embers while I breathe in the tar. Chills silently run along my body from the slow breezes of the city. Exposed skin is cold like chunks of ice from the late winter. Honking, common yelling, and occasional…
February 02, 2026
Science Fiction Stories Tom Kropp

Eye Of The Cyborg

Fierce winds whipped across the blood red desert of Dumar and its stormy scarlet skies were filled with soaring starships. A large city sparkled in the hellish light, safe from the storm behind flickering photonic forcefields. It was a volatile planet prone…
January 27, 2026
General Stories J.P. Young

Bittersweet Christmastide In A Winter Wonderland

“Our sweetest songs are those of saddest thought.” ― Percy Bysshe Shelley “It”s always sumtin”, ain”t it?” – Rico Long ago and far away…Things were like the good old days…and as Rico said, Ray lived for the good olddays…As his wife Katrina was working late at…
January 27, 2026
Fantasy Stories Fayaway & Hermester Barrington

Three Days' Flight to Mitrúvishar

Wednesday, November 20th, 2024 From: John Parchment <dragonwriter@mitruvishar.com> To: Emmett Zuntz <ezuntz@majicorpmedia.com> Dear Mr. Zuntz, thou ASCII Mephistopheles, I hereby tender my resignation to Majicorp Media. When I left my secure-but-boring…

The red Audi S5 took the curve too quickly, spun its rubber and flipped into the ditch. Leighton slowed his gray Subaru Impreza to the shoulder and leaped out.

Only a week ago, he had signed the papers to make the divorce final. He had felt so bad about it and almost returned to a drinking habit he had cured long ago, but thus far, he had only bought a bottle of Maker's Mark without indulging. All of that at this point seemed so pointless. After all lots of people have it rough- much rougher than him- just like the poor driver of the Audi.

He ran the twenty feet to the vehicle, but slowed his pace when he reached it. Already he could smell gasoline.

Removing his gray sport coat, he eased down into the dead grass to check out the condition. He peered inside to discover only see a driver with no passengers. That was a good sign- as far as potential casualties.

“Hello there? You awake?”

He thought he might have heard a mumbling from the driver although he could not be sure what. He repeated his attempt at communication but only received a few more mumbles in return.

“Blasted.”

He walked around to the side of the Audi to the driver's side door. As he did so, he noticed the tags were only temporary.This ride was brand new and already beat to hell. He leaned down to try and reach the driver, but there was no use. A large oak stood next to the door which prevented opening since the doors opened upward but the tree also caused a bit of a tilt which made entry to the passenger side door a possibility. And then the spark came.

He could not be certain he actually saw a spark near the gas tank, but something bright found his vision. It would not be long now before the Audi blew.

As he scrambled around to the passenger side, he yelled again. Now there wasn't even mumbling. He yanked the passenger side door handle.

Thump!

Locked!

Leighton hammered on the window with his palms. Inside he could see the driver was a female with short blonde hair, but he could not make out the face. Probably some dumb high school student with a dad with too much money who bought her a car she was not ready to handle. He shook his head as he banged away.

“Miss! Wake up! You have to unlock the door!”

She was not moving. He could not see any blood, but she could be out. He banged away for a moment, but decided he had to abandon this. She was out and maybe dead. But he had to try and...

Movement.

“Yes! Unlock your door! Over here!”

The driver's titled her head. The setting dusk prevented Leighton from catching any telling look of the face or eyes. He hammered the passenger side window and the windshield while the driver eased about like a tired slug. No matter how hard he banged, she got in no hurry.

God, this was so familiar. He tried to get his ex-wife to do so many things while they were married, but she put off everything- paying bills, renewing licenses, buying groceries. Yet he had dragged his feet with the divorce. She jumped at it with spring heels.

No.

He could not think of that now. He had to save this poor driver's life. She was in a bad place. A lot of people had it bad- much worse than Leighton.

She inched her way to the passenger side, but still only mumbled. Maybe her jaw was broken. Leighton stopped banging the windows and urged her on with his voice.

“That's it...keep going...you can do it...”

Finally, she made it to the passenger side door. She stopped.

“No! No! You have to flip the unlock switch. You have to unlock the door!”

A spark.

His heart boomed inside his ears. He banged on the windows until his palms were beating with his heart. The windshield turned red. The woman's head came up. She reached over.

“That's it! Do it!”

She fumbled with the button.

Clunk.

Leighton tossed the door open, reached in and pulled the woman free. He stood and dragged her away from the wreckage ten feet away. After closing his eyes in relief, he peered down at the driver's face.

With little life in her eyes, she sighed.

“Hello, Leighton.”

#

Luckily, Leighton got his ex-wife an ambulance. She recovered in no time from her broken clavicle and concussion and had that wrecked Audi S5 replaced with another on Leighton's dime. The last he heard, she had a child with some man, but saw no reason to get married again.

As bad as he wanted to hate her, he told himself he should not. His problems weren't so bad. As he cracked open that bottle of Maker's Mark and took a long pull, he decided that he was lucky for the most part. After all, some people really have it bad.

Anthony David Mitchell is currently working on his third book along with other shorter projects as well.  He lives in Jackson, TN on the wrong side of the tracks.

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