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Latest Stories

May 27, 2023
Science Fiction Stories Daniel P. Douglas

A Course Toward Hope

Like countless times before, Braemore took to the smoky skies in his camo quadpod with another load of food and meds, all of which awaited a warm welcome in the camps west of the big river. He tapped his throttle pad with a gloved forefinger until it reached…
May 27, 2023
Flash Fiction Paweł Markiewicz

The Druid

In a Druid´s soul: gold of rainbow. A druid wanted to go into a forest and pick some fungi, to cook a magic super decoction from them. In the Druid´s soul: the Golden Fleece. He gathered some mushrooms such as the red-capped scaber stalks-fungi, a boletus…
May 27, 2023
General Stories Emanuel Diaz

Avoid The Blōðan

Amid a world brimming with clamor and chaos, Ivar Gunhild remained an enigma unto himself. A man perpetually shrouded in the veil of introversion, he navigated life with trepidation, his spirit burdened by an innate fragility. Fear seemed to be his constant…
May 25, 2023
Flash Fiction Frank Talaber

The Eyes Don't Lie

The bell jingled above the screen entrance door of the twenty-four hour Esso truck stop alerting the three of us sitting there that someone had entered. It was around two am, he was muscular, partly unshaven, smokes hung from his jean jacket waiting to be…
May 25, 2023
Poetry Paweł Markiewicz

The Responsive Awakening Of Springtide

The springtime wakes up in may glory and dreams in May-tender homeland O! Dreamy moony spring immortalize the enchantment of the Naiad forever! the pensiveness of a feather from crows you are black such a muse-like falchion thinker with many oboli I listen to…
May 25, 2023
General Stories Frank Talaber

Kodak Moments In Rose

I’d agreed to clean out some of dad’s stuff after he passed away. As I looked through his college journals, a picture fluttered free and fell to the floor. A black and white photo of a young woman leaning against a Harley. Black stiletto leather boots rose…
May 25, 2023
Science Fiction Stories Alyssa Gonzalez

Movement

“Don’t you know it’s rude to turn up in a woman’s bedroom uninvited?” The visitors quivered. It was hard to read that as an expression, taking place as it did on masses of slightly wet tentacles that occasionally flicked, waved, and rubbed against each other.…
May 25, 2023
General Stories Armita KH

Black Like Golden

In the maddening dark depths of the ocean, under a small boulder, lived a lonely little fish. As long as he could remember, his entire life had been spent under the same boulder .Sometimes when he opened his eyes, boredom and loneliness forced him to take a…
May 24, 2023
Romance Stories Stephanie Dolan

The Poop Deck

Sitting in the too-warm classroom, I drummed my fingers on the desk. Staring out the window, my vision clouded. I didn’t really see anything aside from the far-off horizon-line of the ocean. I thought I could almost hear the surf rolling in as I focused on…
May 21, 2023
General Stories George Primov

The Customer is Always Right, Right???

The dreadful phone rings, jolting me like a vicious Taser and its high-pitched tone drills straight through my head. I have exactly 5 seconds before it rings a second time and this is when the soulless mainframe in the bowels of a nondescript, huge…
May 21, 2023
Flash Fiction George Primov

Nia

Nobody at the ward knew where she came from, or if that was her real name. She appeared one hot May morning from nowhere, barely dragging her exhausted feet on the scorching asphalt, rib cage protruding in the air, tail hanging loosely between hind legs,…
May 21, 2023
General Stories George Primov

Alexandra Takes Care of business

A dark shadow knocking loudly on the windshield ended his afternoon nap in the shade of the cathedral. Startled, he rubbed his bloodshot, sleep-laden eyes, and was ready to bless the intruder and his immediate womenfolk, when a red paper showing a man with an…

Lurching awake, gasping for air, and I've dreamt of her again. It's the same as always, lately. She's in Hell, neck deep in snake’s blood, with a foetus hanging above her, and her head is on fire. It doesn't get any better, not even with the pills.

The psychiatrist has asked me what else occurs in this dream.

“ The foetus is crying, “ I told her.

“ You sustained a serious injury in the accident. A car crash is a big deal, Tom. “

The accident...

It had been raining and we were on our way home from the theatre. Annette had wanted to see a stage play. The Woman in Black, that was it. She was twenty-five weeks pregnant. Our first.

A drunk driver collected us head on, without warning, an hour out of town. The impact was highly severe.

I suffered a head injury and Annette was killed outright. It took some time for the emergency services to arrive. I don't know how long we were there until they were notified.

Annette's corpse had expelled our baby, someone who would've been our little girl. She was much like a coffin birth, so I'm told.

I held Annette's hand. It was the only thing I could feel in the wreckage.

Her family buried them both, while I was in hospital, and her brother came to visit me, but only once. They haven't contacted me since.

The drunk driver survived and he and I were only four beds apart in ICU. I awoke before he did and they relocated him to a different hospital. His name was Daryl Hibbert.

The newspaper had a great time with the story. It was going to trial, of course, once Hibbert was well enough. They spoke politely of Annette: Sadly missed school teacher in tragic wreck, wife of senior detective, all that stuff.

Well, I'm not a detective any more.

Annette and I met a fund raiser to do with the awareness of drug addiction and teen suicide. She was twelve years younger than I, beautiful, with auburn hair, and hazel eyes. I'd rarely had the chance to have a love interest, let alone get married.

After a series of surgeries, I had to be moved to a rehabilitation unit. My progress was good, all cognitive and motor skills  seemed to be okay, except for two things. My handwriting wasn't so hot and each time Hibbert, or Annette's name was mentioned, my left hand involuntarily grabbed sharp objects, like a knife, or pen, and proceeded to stab the table, or a chair. I was completely unaware of it.

I wounded several hospital staff.

“ Hey, Tom, “ they would say. “ That Hibbert just got seven years, “ and my left hand would start going at it.

Quite soon, I was disallowed sharp objects.

Finally, I was sent home, given pills, referred into counselling.

Recently, they discovered that in the accident, the two spheres of my brain had torn from each other. This is what causes my involuntary violent actions. Apparently, I can be taught to control it by avoiding things that trigger it.

But I can't avoid my dreams, that reoccurring nightmare. That's when my hand gets the worst.

It has started to choke me in my sleep.

 

End

BIO: I live in Orange, New South Wales, Australia. I have one child -a daughter. I was born in 1977. My poetry has appeared in anthologies worldwide and my short stories have appeared in men's magazines. I cite James Herbert, Tales From the Crypt, vintage Penny Dreadfuls, and Ripley's Believe it, or Not as an influence.

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