Home Fiction - Year VI - Number 46 - March 2021

Fiction - Year VI - Number 46 - March 2021

    TUPPERWARE by Alan Massey

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    Alan Massey Tupperware, and the Little Red Sliver for a Second Hand             After my mother’s DUI, I took to driving her to her depressing little...

    ALTERATION by Claire Ibarra

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    Alteration       With dreams of chasing Richard through dimly lit subway stations and the dark, wooded trails of Central Park, Margaret had a fitful night.  Yet, when she woke...

    SECURITY by Elissa Field

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    Security When her son, Tavo, first came into her room – light on, 3 a.m., cat swiveling its head away from the noises in the yard below to the...

    SPLIT THE G by Jack Hutchinson

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    Split the G Henry sat down at the Auld Shillelagh and made a dismal attempt at splitting the G. The black settled just above the bottom of the harp....

    KINGFISH OF LOUISIANA by William R. Stoddart

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    Kingfish of Louisiana  The express jet banked low over huge storage vats of crude oil that lined the chocolate brown river. Damian was headed home after twenty-five years. He...

    THE FIG TREE by Peter Roxburgh

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    Izabela’s earliest memory is of picking fruit from the fig tree that bordered the stream which ran along the bottom of her garden. She was probably four or five years old; it...

    EDNA by Katie Sweeting

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    I didn’t know what to wear. Of all the things to think about on that first morning, I concentrated on clothing. Not too dressy—it wasn’t a party. I wouldn’t wear a clingy...

    WELCOME TO THE FUNHOUSE by Wendy Miller Norris

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                The blindfold is yanked from my eyes and I'm looking at Big Mike and Wild Bill, my soon to be fraternity brothers. Surrounded by darkness, not even the sparkle of stars...

    HUNGRY by Liz Shine

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    Hungry It’s a typical boring Saturday. Susie woke two hours ago, but is still lying in bed, thinking. She stares at the top-bunk ceiling, breathing the air of her...

    THE LAST GOOD BAD GUY by Patti Cavaliere

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    It’s ten o’clock on Sunday morning when the thunder of a Harley stops in my driveway.  Two slices of raisin bread toast and a mug of Columbian are before me on the...