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Latest Stories

July 10, 2019
Romance Stories John L.Yelavich

Saccharine Smiles and Sandpaper Personalities

What is the most powerful force in the universe? Is it atomic fusion, military might, volcanoes, tsunamis or any other natural disaster? No, they are not. None of them can create havoc and paranoia in man any more than love can. Yes, love is the force that is…
July 10, 2019
Crime Stories J.B.Stevens

A Good Man

Jimmy hated feeling the delicate orbital bones splinter, but he didn’t have a choice. He needed to be free. It was unfortunate. Just the wrong place, wrong time. If he was out he could send money to Sarah. That’s what all this was all about, helping his…
July 10, 2019
Fantasy Stories Roger Ley

Turing Test

Mr Riley liked to start his day in the library. It was a short walk from his house and conveniently situated at the top of the main street in the Suffolk market town that he and his wife had retired to. When they’d first arrived, he’d joined the local writing…
July 10, 2019
Romance Stories Patric Quinn

Where or When

The front doorbell sounded its gentle Westminster Chimes and the thumping on the door started before Hazel even put her pen down on the papers she was working on intently. More curious than annoyed, she stopped writing, shrugged and started for the door.…
July 10, 2019
Flash Fiction Sheila Ash

Working Christmas Again

I always draw the short straw to a chorus of ‘Bad luck’. A reiteration of last year and the year before, and the year before that. Throughout the day, my ‘C’est la vie’ chimes on a constant playback loop. My expressionist shrugs repeat themselves as a…
March 18, 2019
Mystery Stories JD Plummer

Pseudonyms

“Gelb wants you to call him.” I looked at Frankie, opened my mouth, began to slowly shake my head. My reply delayed by the image of Gelb, monocle in eye, brow raised, lips tight, grimacing. I cringed at the thought. “I ain’t calling that prick,” I finally…
March 18, 2019
Fantasy Stories Lucia Balbuena

A Different Story

Her breathing was deep and steady when she run through the dense forest holding her grandmother’s kitchen knife in her hand. Her red cape was torn up, also her legs, hands and her face were cut by the tree brunches. Stop you are the victim, said the forest…
March 17, 2019
Crime Stories Wally Smith

Coda

Luigi Andante’s small apartment sat on the fourth floor of a block in the West Bronx at the corner of 18th and Davidson. It was adequate as a living space, but Luigi craved more than this. “A penthouse overlooking Central Park would suit me just fine”, he had…
March 17, 2019
Crime Stories Walter Giersbach

Fifty Ways to Leave Your Loser

Lorraine Vanderzanden had the thankless task being Lindstrom’s police chief. Her husband didn’t appreciate the risks she took. Her brother didn’t thank her for using her degree for something useful instead of helping on the family farm. Heck, she thought,…
March 17, 2019
Mystery Stories Jenny Webster

"Communicate with me, please."

I have been blind for so long, I didn’t even attempt to imagine what it would be like if I could see. I don’t know any different, all I know is darkness, and I base everything that I can experience mostly through sound. You see, I can’t walk either. I’m not…
March 16, 2019
Flash Fiction Michael Fredrick

Secondhand Santa

The late model sedan sputtered, coughed and dutifully careened forward on a cold December evening. Fred hit the gas pedal & ruminated as he always did, wondering again why life had dealt him this hand? Christmas Eve, foraging for returnable bottles to make…
March 16, 2019
General Stories Darrell Case

Trig's Smokin' Wheels

There were a lot of things Trig Nelson could do, many he wanted to do, and more things he couldn’t do. Trig couldn’t run, he’d never climb stairs or hills or mountains. He couldn’t play football or basketball. Being stuck in a wheelchair that would always be…

 

 

Cal and Carrie Dodd, each twenty five, left their apartment at 9:00 AM and loaded their car with camping equipment. “It looks like we have everything we’ll need for a week. There’s plenty of food in the coolers, and we can always catch some fish,” Carrie said.”

“I have my hunting knife, and I put the hatchet in the back. We might have to chop some fire wood. I guess we have everything, Carrie, so let’s go camping.”

They left their town and headed for the mountains.  After driving for two hours, they entered Running Creek, a small town that was the gateway to the Mitawin mountain range. “I think we should stop and get some lunch before we head up the mountain.”  There’s a diner, Cal,” she said and he drove up to it, parked, and they went in and sat at the counter. A waitress went to them and placed silver ware and menus on the counter. “Welcome to Running Creek.  You folks planning to go camping?”

“That’s why we’re here,” Cal said.  “Say, what’s the meaning of the name of the mountain?”

“It’s Lakota for ‘my wife’. Some time ago, the Lakota lived in this area. Apparently, a Lakota village was attacked by the tribes’ enemies, and a girl, who was recently married to a young brave, was kidnapped by the invaders. The brave was heart-broken. He left the tribe and went out on his own to try to find his wife. What people here believe is that the young brave can be seen on the mountain searching for his wife. It’s a nice love story.

“So, what can I get you?”

After eating, Cal and Carrie drove toward the mountain. “What did you think about the love story?” Carrie asked.

“No matter where you go, there are folktales about spirits and ghosts. They’re just old, wives’tales.”

After driving along a mountain road wide enough for their car, he came to a clearing and stopped. “This looks like a good spot to set up camp,” he said and both unloaded the car and set up the tent.

“Cal, according to this map, there’s a lake about a mile to the west.  Let’s go fishing.”

“Good idea,” he said, they got their fishing gear, and headed for the lake. As they approached the lake, they stopped in their tracks. “What the hell.”

“Cal, do...do you see an Indian?”

“Yeah. I see an Indian, and he’s coming toward us.”

“The love story. Jeez, Cal, it’s true.  My God.”

“He’s coming straight at us. Jeez, he’s holding a knife,” he gasped, as the Indian ran at Cal and stabbed him. Carrie screamed as Cal fell to the ground, dead. Before she could move, the Indian picked her up and ran into the forest.

****

One month later, the Running Creek sheriff entered the diner and sat at the counter. “What’s new, sheriff?”

“A mystery. A man’s body was found not far from Crystal Lake. He had been stabbed. We found two fishing poles but only one body. We searched the area and found a camp site and a car. I ran the tag on the car, and found the owners…Cal and Carrie Dodd from Brainerd. We learned that they came up here a month ago to go camping. The mystery: who killed the man, and what happened to the woman?”

 

The End

While teaching speech and English at a community college, Mr. Greenblatt wrote short stories and plays, one of which won a reading at Smith College.  After retiring, he wrote short stories, novellas, and plays.  Several of his stories were published in on-line magazines, and others were published in print anthologies.

 

 

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