By: Phil Temples I first met Bob many years ago. He was cowering near a stoop off a narrow alleyway in Boston’s Back Bay. His clothes were rags. His expression communicated both fear and loathing. He wasn’t even begging me…
By: Michael C. Keith Things are never as scary when you’ve got a best friend. –– Bill Watterson I’ve had this voice in my head since I was an adolescent . . . 16 years old, to be exact. At first…
By: Douglas J. Ogurek “Love your neighbor as yourself.” – Luke 10:27 Troy Farlander They have a saying around here: “red touch yellow, kill a fellow; red touch black, a friend of Jack.” Coral snakes have yellow, red, and black…
By: Tracey Levine Light pours into Judy’s bedroom window as if it’s coming from a tipped pitcher. Michele’s on her elbows, back arched to the window, sunning. It saturates her bare, pregnant stomach. Judy sits beside her on the bed, also…
By: Debraj Bhattacharya As I opened the door to your place, Utpal, I could smell the sweat in your body. The first time we came close to each other in this ground floor apartment of yours at Manicktola. I was a…
By: Milt Montague That morning Milt awoke at 6:05 AM, realized it was an ungodly hour, and tried to get back to sleep. Morpheus was nowhere to be found and after a full hour of fruitless searching for respite in…
By: Milt Montague All children love pets. Cats and dogs are the top candidates in this category of unconditional sources of love. They visibly and audibly return the love and attention lavished upon them by humans. The four Montague children…
By: Obinna Ozoigbo A laconic cigarette dangled from the corner of Grandpa’s mouth, smoldering, as he parked his sleek Ferrari near the river. A trilby hat sat on his head, concealing his hairless crown, but revealing wispy tufts of grey…
By: Charles “Chuck” Orloski One day in the life of Michael and Alexander Smith A beautiful South Carolina night, insect screams, and an occasional lonely “plop”noise as hungry fish briefly touched surface of John D. Long Lake. Demonically obsessed, Susan…
By: Gaither Stewart I am bizarre. No more and no less than my characters. I know that about myself. Who gets into his car with no special place to go and decides on the spot to drive to Istanbul? Where…