Archive for November, 2007

Premier Issue: November 2007


Welcome to the premier issue of “A Fly in Amber!” This month we’re featuring a variety of works from a number of talented authors. We hope you enjoy reading their work, and invite you to post your impressions in comments! For those of you who would like to receive regular updates on future issues, comments on your favorite stories or even feedback from readers on your own work, if you’re one of our valued contributors, you can register as a subscriber.We’re happy to bring you this sampling, and we look forward to a bright future as with this, our first issue, we make our debut!

If you would like to submit, please refer to our submission guidelines.


by Marge Simon


Poppies and Ghosts

by Len Bains

“No!” Ernest managed to push away the poppy. It reminded him of a wound, the image came to him again, a face opened like a red flower. Poppies! He’d spent two years in the trenches and never seen one damned poppy. Armistice day again. Another year rolled around, and they’d wheeled them out once more.Read more…

Dry Season

by Nora Wall

Dove shaded her eyes against the sun and surveyed the street. Walnut looked much like it did twenty-six years ago. Once kids played in the street and parents didn’t give it a second thought. No one does that anywhere now.

Picking Up the Pieces

by Jeanne K. Svensson

Ruth came stamping down the back steps into her father’s kitchen, her hair frizzed out from her normally tight bun, the top button of her housecoat sticking up alone above the unironed lace collar. “Dad, have you been upstairs?”


by Eric Bailey

Billy Callahan, thirteen years old, stood quite intently on the edge of the bridge, staring straight down between his sneakers at the water rushing underneath. Dirty Pig Creek was running pretty low this season; he could see the tops of large rocks jutting through the torrent. He never felt the rain pitter-pattering his dark headRead more…

The October Man

by Dave Bara

Ballantine sat in the field, spinning a long blade of grass between his fingers. Around him were things of familiarity, things of strangeness. Behind him stood tall pale trees filled with golden fruit and amber leaves. A silver shower rained on the trees from time to time, but never was he wet. In the distanceRead more…

Hollow-bellied Jack

by Tom Conoboy

Jack is a farmer, an Irish poet who has never written a poem. His farm, little more than a few fields with a house and a byre, is down a track that no-one walks but Jack. It is a ghost road, some say, a bridge between the us and the them, and Jack, in theRead more…