Archive for the ‘September 2009’ Category
Backlash
| by Steven Mathes |
The goal was to get home to Julie. Limping slightly and unable to turn his head, Cutter was the first soldier from his transport to get through the gate in Boston. It had been a long, painful ten years, but if he was lucky, he might be home in an hour. He understood that heRead more…
Miss Georgia’s Drive
| by Gregg Winkler |
Georgia Reiss was blessed. She sat behind the wheel of her mother’s 1986 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme, the radio turned down, and drove up the country lane. The windows were down on the old yellow hunk of metal, and the wind tussled the little hairs around her ears and neck that had escaped her French braid.Read more…
A Night Visit to Endor
| by Alex Myers |
The witch knew right away who he was — the goddamn king — but there was no sense saying anything. Let the big boy think his disguise was perfect, gave nothing away. Let him think he was safe and powerful even though she could smell his fear, so strong it was almost a taste, metallicRead more…
The One Handed Rower of Myonnesus
| by D. Krauss |
Alcidas didn’t murder Phrynus, merely lopped off his hand, but that was a show of weariness, not mercy. Cutting the throats of 200 mariners was exhausting business. “Just cripple them,” Alcidas gestured at the twenty or so still left, Phrynus among them, and stumbled drunkenly away. Lying on the dock afterwards holding his stump, PhrynusRead more…
The Storyteller Han Sook
| by A. Alan Beck |
At his morning place under a tall pine tree, Han Sook clutched his bamboo stool to his chest to stop himself from sitting and telling his stories. “I am too old now,” he said to the three villagers who had gathered to hear his tales. “My voice is weak and my eyes are dim.” “ButRead more…
Wielding The Knife
| by Damon Shaw |
Faina was going to complain the dust would stain her dress but the falcons took her breath away. On every rock, every dead bush, they perched and preened, eyeing each other with savage intent. Inez pursed her lips and spat between the stones at her feet. “Watch,” she ordered. After six long months with herRead more…
The World in Rubber, Soft and Malleable
| by Aaron Polson |
Before he disappeared through the extra doorway in his basement, Jarrod Ponton was my best friend. He was thin and pale, almost an afterthought of a boy. Some of the seniors called him Bird. We never understood the joke, but I guess his nose was a bit beak-like. Sometimes, it’s hard to remember his face.Read more…