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Latest Stories

December 22, 2025
General Stories Tom Kropp

Messiah In The Congo

Booming thunder and pouring rain rocked the L.A. night like a hurricane. White lightning flashed across the black sky, illuminating the dark clouds rolling by. Below the rolling heavens soared long, flowing streams of light that were hovercars in flight,…
December 22, 2025
Crime Stories Tom Kropp

Murderers Meet Mongrel

Lily didn't think her new doorbell and little dog would save her life, but both did. Lily was a lovely little Latina, 21 years old. Her little mutt had been named Foxy, due to her fox coloring. Lily's new doorbell frightened Foxy so much that she ran and hid…
December 22, 2025
General Stories Tom Kropp

Foxy's Doorbell Destruction

Lily didn't think her new doorbell and little dog would save her life, but both did. Lily was a lovely little Latina, 21 years old. Her little mutt had been named Foxy, due to her fox coloring. Lily's new doorbell frightened Foxy so much that she ran and hid…
December 22, 2025
Poetry Paweł Markiewicz

The 11 Dazzling Verses

The dreameries need Blue Hours. The Blue Hours would need a sun's afterglow. The red sky in the evening longs for a delight. The delight wants a homeland. The native land wanted a literature. The writings are willing to manifest a reality. The epiphany was…
December 22, 2025
Crime Stories Tom Kropp

Murder And Manslaughter

Felipe was born poor in a shack in Honduras. His family all lived in the same room with a dirt floor and considered themselves lucky to have electricity. But they didn't have indoor plumbing. They had to use an outhouse. They used a communal pump for safe…
December 22, 2025
General Stories Matias Travieso-Diaz

The Annoyingly Loud Monkey

I decline all noisy, wordy, confused, and personal controversies. Josiah Warren Johnny was an aging Venezuelan red howler (Alouatta seniculus), a fat, medium-sized, male monkey that inhabited the northern edge of the rainforests of tropical South America. His…
December 22, 2025
Flash Fiction A.H. Leclerc

The Lady Of Avalon

This is the story of the Lady of Avalon, first wielder of Excalibur, spiritual precursor of Arthur Pendragon. She had had a lover once. Pwill was his name. A kind soul at one with Nature, who spoke to his horse like they were dearest friends (which they were)…
December 22, 2025
General Stories Thomas Turner

Chicago Bound

Chicago bound: He and his wife are taking a train to Chicago, to be at a concert. It is thrilling for both of them. Charles tells his wife “This is going to be great.” Lana, his wife, who is the singer for the Chicago concert, said “You know, I am going to…
December 22, 2025
Poetry Markus J

Santa's Dilemma

the jolly old man Santa claus- broke the north poles workers by laws- the elf's toiled all night and day- for a daily pittance called their pay. reported by his brother-in-law- was this the end of old Mr clause- with the elf's downing their tools to go on…
December 22, 2025
Flash Fiction Kashif Imdad

Emma's Fury

Following the catastrophic world war that left humanity on the brink of extinction, Survivors rebuilt establishing communities amidst the devastated terrain. Roaming gangs of men, referred to as the slavers, dominated the wastelands, abducting people and…
December 22, 2025
Crime Stories Tom Kropp

Murder And Blood Counts

She stepped in front of me blocking my path. I could see that the red-haired, hot hooker was bad news. Obeying instinct, I tried sidestepping her. “Hold on Kole. We need to talk. Look in my eyes!” she demanded. A primal part of me assumed she probably had a…
December 15, 2025
Flash Fiction Michelle Pauls

To RFK, Jr: The Autistic Poet Writes About Pennies

In her bedroom, the young woman walks back and forth, consistently, intently, while eyeing a large ceramic container of pennies nearby. Its purple outer shell is slightly cracked, revealing some unknown material underneath. It is in the center of the room and…

When I was a boy there were tales of a lady in the lake.

During the Summer months, my friends and I would ride our bicycles out there, and swim all day. Sometimes, we would take a tent, and camp out there, our parents thinking that we were having a sleep over at Joe's.

We would tell stories, trying to scare each other, and it would work, because none of us would get a wink of sleep, convinced that wild pigs might attack us, or Donny Brooke's pitbull was loose, and hunting us down. Never did we did tell ghost stories, though, because ghosts are like fairies, just something made up.

Ghosts do exist. I know now.

We were aware that people had occasionally drowned in the lake, their bodies later found tangled in the reeds. My father had been a rescue worker and told me that sometimes they would find a floater, have to slide a piece of board beneath them, remove the body that way, because the skin would be tissue thin, and brittle. He said that one time he removed a body and his fingers sunk right into them, tearing away their flesh.

My mother stressed the most, saying, “ Don't swim beneath the surface, David. Those reeds are dangerous. Beth lives in them. She'll get you. “

Beth...

Beth had been a girl who went to school with my mother and father. She was the girl with a bright future, so everyone thought. Her future was cut short by a boating accident. The propeller cut her head up and they found her a week later. She was submerged deep, tangled in those reeds.

Boys will be boys and we challenged each other to swim down to them, ignoring old wive's tales, to feel the slime upon them, to see how they wriggled and waved, like slender green fingers.

I swam down there.

Beth was beautiful and I was mesmerised.

She quickly grabbed my arm and dragged me deeper into the reeds. Her face changed and I saw what had happened to her, how she had been scalped, her face thrashed, and broken. She shrieked at me, I was terrified, and that's how I drowned.

 

End

 

BIO: I live in Orange, New South Wales, Australia. I have one child -a daughter. I was born in Sydney in 1977. My poetry has appeared in anthologies worldwide and my short stories have been published 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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