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Best Stories on the Web
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Due to the large number of submissions we will not be taking any more stories until 1st May 2018. We have a backlog of work to be published and we wish to give all of our authors the opportunity to get published.


The Princess and I

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The indefatigable Geraldine, who at work wanted to introduce me to a suitable young woman, and tried, without success, on a number occasions, spotted me sitting in the company cafeteria. She had in-tow this time a prettier-than-usual candidate and seated her and herself at my table. “I want you to meet our new worker, Nataliya,” she said in that breathless voice of hers. “She is a real Russian princess.”


Dancing with Valentino

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New York City

December 26, 1950

The Ashland Hotel is a dump in a rundown area of the city. I live in a one-room apartment, two rooms if you include the bathroom, with my common-law husband, sometime cab driver, Joe Davies.  The hotel is a perfect setting for a murder.


The Unicorn

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The murder investigation team at Riverside were alerted to a suspicious death at around 2pm on 9th January. Lily Goodman and her team made their way over to the property immediately to begin their investigations. They had been preceded by a number-of uniformed officers and the forensic team.


Degrees of Relation

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“Dammit, you’re making me crazy, Mike,” she shouted.  “Always the Cubans.  I’m so sick of this Fair Play for Cuba crap, like they’re ready to invade Dallas or something.”


“Marcie, think for once. Those guys in Cuba know they can’t do anything.”


“I gotta go to the store and get my clothes from the cleaners and then go…do some things.”



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When I was a child my grandfather said something to me that now showed new

meaning. My father was a drinker, not all the time but sometimes when he drank, he

drank to excess.


Whispers Eavesdropped

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What do you think of when leaves drop..?

Rasp an' rustle... much like my soul… that's lost track of day. A day lost to eternity, to a silky petrification – the flesh's forgotten shadow.

Rasp an' rustle... much like my soul… that's lost track of day... ripped out of the times by a swirl of memory. A memory gone berserk, that's turned back the time. Memory: go crazy or fall...


Cogito Ergo Sum

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For the past ten years, around the end of January, Frankie returns to an run down industrial part of Staten Island that faces New Jersey. He is drawn to this place. He instinctively knows when it is time for a visit. It is home to a longshoreman old timer bar on the shores by the Kill Van Kull.

Frankie took a drunk merchant sea man there from lower Manhattan when he drove a taxi overnights during his college days in 1971.


Simon's Wife

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Simon glanced at his watch as the elevator passed the 25th floor and stopped at the 24th.  The doors parted and three people stepped on; Simon moved with the crowd to make room for the new passengers.  As the elevator dropped silently, Simon looked at his watch again.  It was 12:06.  He had only one hour for lunch and he didn't like spending any of it in the damn elevator.

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