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July 08, 2025
General Stories Michael Barlett

Dance Of Death

CHAPTER ONE 1940 Chief Inspector Kenneth Langford offered the Commissioner a crisp salute, and then walked back through the labyrinth of passageways to his own small office. Langford was a member of the London Metropolitan Police, commonly referred to as…
July 08, 2025
Poetry Markus J

The Winter Blues

the winter blues has a grip on me, all so tight Its icy tentacles wrap around me and squeezes freezing my fingers and toes with its nasty frostbite staving off the cold is a battle, an endless fight it brings forth an assortment of nasty diseases The winter…
July 08, 2025
Horror Stories Sushma R Doshi

Deliverer Of Messages

A loner in my childhood, my scrawny and weak figure prone to being bullied by sturdy and robust boys, I tended to wander around places frequented by few. Those curvy roads which fell into darkness after evening without street lights, the area near the pond…
July 08, 2025
General Stories L Christopher Hennessy

With A Side-Eye I Cherish

for Brittany ma amour Up to my neck in sadness for something just out of reach and she came along and fired up my life with kisses and the physical. The moment I looked into her eyes I didn't want to share her with anyone else and keep her all to myself. In…
July 03, 2025
Poetry Markus J

The Days Of Future Dreams

the days of future dreams the flames once rose high thinking our lives would end up supreme thinking our future seemed a far of dream but in the end nothing is what it seems many times the winds of changed has blown this way one minute we`re lapping the cream…
July 03, 2025
General Stories L Christopher Hennessy

Bad Girl

Part 1I lost the entire manuscript when I assassinated my laptop with sauvignon blanc as I rubbed the lower back of a woman who dozed drunk on my bed, sweating. She was crazed, somewhere between screaming and lying about the orgasm. Bree was a miracle to me,…
July 03, 2025
Horror Stories Nelly Shulman

Black Is Our Colour

“I swear she could have been you. Look! This girl is your long-lost twin.” Fi nudged me, and I smiled. “Never had or wanted one.” I stood up. “Let’s go, or the bargain hunters will clear the shelves before us.” We dived into the vintage emporium across the…
July 03, 2025
Poetry Markus J

The Transformation

"I need a brake" words that twisted my heart- shattering the dream that we would never part. I asked myself 'what ever did I do wrong? sad, gloominess could`ve easily been my song. I wouldn't let the anger and misery grow or cultivate- uprising feelings I…
July 03, 2025
Flash Fiction Benoit

Jae

It was Jae’s birthday today. She turned eight. What a beautiful sunny girl! Hyo planned a surprise or two; Li, his wife, did too. Birthday cake, a puppy and … Don’t forget, they grinned just before he drove off. Traffic was intense. A long call came from…
July 03, 2025
General Stories Matias Travieso-Diaz

Fear

Leandro stood outside the Kroger, leaning forward as he shivered in the early March dawn. He hated this moment: the cold, the fatigue, the feeling of helplessness, the anticipation of another day ahead at his degrading job picking collard leaves under the…
July 03, 2025
Horror Stories Mihko Askiweno

Found You

Panic gripped her as she staggered up the steep, rocky incline, breath coming in jagged, shallow gasps. Sweat streamed down her face in torrents, her hair clinging to her forehead and cheeks in disheveled clumps. Her legs trembled with exhaustion, molten fire…
July 03, 2025
Poetry Markus J

Lost On The Path

But alas; sometimes I think we've lost our way- too many strayed opinions...one too many a survey. Walking on the road ahead, just following the herd of sheep- with a hypnotised mind, wide awake yet very fast asleep. While yelling...join the team of the…

Warning: Adult - Editor

Dismal 'n' Distress

by Adam Armstrong

Liz paced around her living room; a portrait of a patient waiting to find out if it is terminal. The slightest twist of her hips threatened to rip the fabric of her skirt and allow full movement again. Her rose blouse was about to lose the battle with her D cups. Liz stopped to adjust the blouse down to allow a canyon of cleavage. After a moment of consideration, she settled for a small hollow of cleavage instead.

French manicured nails begged to be bitten so she placed words in her mouth instead: “Could he have met someone else? Maybe he already has someone else. Was he just trying to pick up a hot piece on the side?” Her cheeks flushed a bright pink before the blush ran down either side of her face and formed a smile. The thick carpet was given a reprise as she slowed to ponder. The phone definitely would have rung by now if they both had the same line of thought.

A tiny tremor ran through her and ticked her eyes toward the clock. The second hand slowed down and thought about going backward. “I’ll give you a buzz about six.” It was five fifty-eight, Bastard! About six, it had been about six for centuries.

She didn’t know why she perpetually placed people on pedestals. It could be the undying romantic swimming under nine to five thoughts. The romantic wanted it all to fall together in perfect symphony with no turbulence until the end of time. So did the lazy American in her that wanted everything now, fast, and cheap.

Rejection wasn’t so horrible; especially rejection from a guy who she would probably end up using anyway. It was the thought of not being certain whether or not she was rejected…she dug her nails into the palm of her hands. Her heart beat to the insane rhythm of a drummer on crack trying to play the solo of In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida.

“I don’t have anything else to do,” escaped through her clenched teeth.

That wasn’t entirely true, she did have that laundry. Laying out the clothes you were going to wear for the week took some time. Picking off every piece of lint on them with tweezers took a little extra time. And those stains: they were as bad as red wine on white cotton. Focusing on each square inch at a time, Liz found ways of getting them stain free.

She wondered if they were complete opposites. A layout of the maze, along with a method of defeating the Minotaur, always appeared in her mind. Maybe he just chose the closet path, and hoped the Minotaur had joined the Teamsters. The Teamsters might have told it not to look down that path on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

She should be the damsel in distress awaiting a shining knight to save her from boredom. Instead, here she paced, dismal and distressed.

“Screw him! Who needs men anyway? They’re messy, rude, arrogant, insensitive, and just so detached! Why doesn’t he call me?” Her fists shook at the tiny room.

The phone rang.

Time stopped. Reality displaced itself. The train was no longer on the tracks because the tracks were imagined. Life was more than what she expected; her cynicism had no ability to mold the real world. Liz dived on the couch tackling the phone. She held it in a death grip to ensure that it didn’t slip away like a wet bar of soap. Without bothering to check the caller ID, she slipped into her phone sex voice: “Hey there.”

“Liz, turn on your TV!” a female voice shouted.

Her face and shoulders both slumped. Then her eyebrows met and her teeth ground together.

“Why Sarah?” Liz asked.

“It looks like your dream date turned out to be a nightmare,” Sarah said.

Liz dragged her eyes around the vast tundra of the little living room. The remote was playing hide and you’re screwed if you need it. After another quick survey she shrugged her shoulders and walked over to the television set. She stopped. Puzzled for a moment, then the little light bulb went off above her head as she remembered how to turn on the television without the remote.

“What channel?” Liz asked.

“Channel 5,” Sarah said.

Liz’s mouth dropped open as she saw what was on the screen.

“Sorry baby. But look on the bright side—”

“I’ll call you back,” she hung up on Sarah.

Finding the volume up button, the TV was turned up to an earsplitting level. An attractive news reporter (with a fake Barbie doll quality that made Liz hate her immediately) was filling the viewing public in on what had happened in the small cottage behind her. Various news scenes about the story—such as the ordinary house, the police directing traffic, a parked car in front of a garage—flashed across the screen as they often do. It could have been a subliminal message sent just to her. His face flashed on the screen then turned again, to the outside of his house. In that flash, Liz had seen those beautiful green/blue eyes betray a vicious craziness.

“—twenty-three is the body-count so far. It seems that Gary Bauer would lure women back to his house where he would chain them in the sound-proofed basement so that he could rape and torture them before finally killing them. It is unclear at this time how long he has been doing this, but police believe that he had more victims lined up. The district attorney’s office will be preparing their case against Bauer, though it is their opinion he will try an insanity plea.

“Next with sports—”

A jab of her finger killed the tube. Stumbling, like a George Romero zombie looking for flesh, she went into the kitchen. Opening the basement door, she was devoured by darkness as she sank into it.

Liz pulled on an overhead string that sent the darkness retreating as it was chased out by the dim yellow light. Drifting through the laundry room into her workshop, she began to power everything down. She knew that she wouldn’t get anything done now.

Her butt, still unaccustomed to the tight skirt, bumped into her surgeon’s instrument tray and knocked some of the contents onto the floor. Liz took a clean rag off of the tray, bent down, and slowly wiped off each scalpel before returning them back to the tray. She rearranged all the items until they were picture perfect and in the order which they would be most used: scalpels, pliers, mace, hammer, saw, and small vial of acid. Tapping her foot and twiddling her fingers, she glanced over at the spot she had reserved for him. The rough concrete needed to be resealed so she could get the blood off easier. Too bad the spot would go unused for another week. She had just oiled and polished the shackles and bought new electrodes. And she had just fixed the trapdoor that led to the lye bath.

She chuckled as she picked up her strap-on dildo with the razor blades embedded in the end. The drawer that was reserved for things that she forced up men’s anuses had a perfect place for it carved out of foam.

She thought about him. They really weren’t that different. It is all in the planning ahead though, she thought as she began to mop the already clean floor. It was in the planning, and the execution.

©2010

 

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