Home Fiction - Year VII - Number 51 - November 2021

Fiction - Year VII - Number 51 - November 2021

    OUR FATHER by Jesus Francisco Sierra

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    OUR FATHER Our Father… It’s time to ring the church bells. I’m waiting for my turn and I’m starting to get nervous. I’ve been coming up...

    LIGHT by Sandra M. Perez

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    She couldn’t remember the last time she stood in the light. “Always look for the light,” he told her. “The pool of light is here, where you dance your solo.” His eyes...

    UNLEARN by Francis Duffy

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    Of course, gender reassignment wasn’t available then. Not that I was unhappy with having been born male. Rather, it was the latter half of the nature-versus-nurture dichotomy that vexed me.

    THE BUSINESS OF SHELLS by Craig Dobson

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    The Business of Shells I sold seashells by the seashore. The same shore where they could be picked up for free. Except for holiday makers, though, or those with...

    I LOVE YOU LIKE BROKEN GLASS by Frances Wiedenhoeft

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    How many times had I scrubbed until my fingertips were raw and blood trickled into the wash water?  Any witness to this stooped washerwoman would have seen the emotional precipice I teetered...

    LUZIA’S DOWRY by Jozef Leyden

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    Luzia’s Dowry The plane bringing me from Copenhagen to Lisbon was half-empty. So was the ‘Arrivals’ at the Lisbon-International on that late warm October evening when I came across...

    THE WAITRESS by Clark Zlotchew

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    You know, people really suck.  I’ll give you an example:  Here I am, just me on duty at the Come‘N Get It Eatery.  The place is just filled with all these people...

    GALAH OR GREY by Bashir Cassimally

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    He is a parrot, our neighbour's bird.  But don't ever call him one.  He becomes touchy and  will reply emphatically from inside his cage that he is an African Grey.  I took...

    THE WELL OF THE ENLIGHTENED by João Santana Franco

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    The Well of the Enlightened The four men were sitting at the table of the decadent Uighur tavern, eaten by time and dust, full of cobwebs in the ceiling,...

    CLOSURE by Jonathan L. Shaffer

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    The elevator door opened. It was thoroughly unremarkable, as many apartment elevators would be. A red pleather jacket over a gray hoodie entered, eyes glued to his phone. “Can...