I met him under the Young Street Bridge. He said his name was Donald. After a few hours of talking, I told him I might love him and he didn’t laugh or get nervous, like most grown-ups would. His hands were calloused; his fingernails were chewed down to nubs. When he touched his guitar strings, …
Category Archive: Short Story
Mar 17
Human Zoo
I asked Jane how she felt about the human zoo. “It’s a travesty. It’s a cultural abortion. It’s disgusting.” It was all those things. “You want to go?” “Yeah,” she said. “I could use some disgusting.” Dad loaned me the car when I told him I was taking Jane. He put the keys in my …
Mar 17
Kinda Devil’s Canyon
Outside the Flamingo, fountains were erupting. Rollercoasters screamed by, through explosions of heat and light. Coins were dumped into the metal mouths of demonic machines. The Vegas Strip: full of mutants and glowing horrible neon lights. It was Tuesday night. Our room was climate controlled. There was a free burlesque show at 6am with steak …
Oct 15
Working with the Working Girls
by Nick Gerrard I have nothing against prostitutes. In fact I like them a lot. I don’t like prostitution, or guys that use them. And I really hate pimps. The lowest of the lowest. On the other hand though; when I lived in Balsall Heath, it was kind of the norm. Not for me, but …
Oct 15
Black & White Whisky
by Philip Vermaas I used to go to the bottle store up the road to, of course, buy booze. It’s the child store of the adjoining supermarket franchise and I started going there with my ex. When we didn’t feel like wasting time which could be better spent naked and eating and drinking in bed, …
Sep 15
The Trapdoor Spider in the Alley
by Luis Rivas I see them walking by but they don’t see me. In the alley where I sleep, the tall overgrown bamboo stretches out over the walls and cascades down to the ground. I sit completely still behind the thick branches and trash and watch all of them walk by me in the dimly-lit …
Sep 15
The Success of Trey
by Luis Rivas There is no truth. There is only perception. – Gustave Flaubert I wake up. Hangover’s not too bad. I lift off the cut-out carpet that I’m using as a blanket. I locate my briefcase (imitation leather but still looks damn expensive) which I stole from the Salvation Army Thrift Store. I get …
Sep 15
Bermuda Locket
by Karley De la Filth Caught breathless. There was no other way to describe the situation. He had seen the warning signs: that glaze, that glitch in her eyes, that crazy glimmer. It’s not that he had ignored the foreshadowing, it’s that he saw these things bursting out of her petite frame and they had …
Sep 15
These Little Rituals
by Anneliese Mackintosh We’re not so different, you and I. We like to think we are, but we’re not. You with your Y chromosome, your love of music, of God. And me with my books and my atheism and my cunt. I’m the one that buys the erotica. The ancient pictures of men upon men, …
Aug 15
Buried Treasure
by Karley de la Filth “Oh my God, Mags! Why doesn’t anyone know this?” Frankie yelled from inside the dumpster. It was pitch black outside, somewhere between midnight and morning. The a.m. before the sunrise. Maggie sat in the passenger seat of her new boyfriend’s car, her legs hanging out the open door. She had …