Home Fiction - Year V - Number 42 - November 2020

Fiction - Year V - Number 42 - November 2020

    PANOPTICON by Cat Sole

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                It was quiet under the water.             The tepid bathwater made Mina feel weightless. Her hands bobbed next to her, not touching her skin, not feeling the shape of her stomach or her hips...

    THE SITE by Katie Kopacz

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    The Site The Metro North train lurched from side to side as it accelerated, wheels squealing, out of Grand Central station and into the dark tunnel. She, Essie, was accustomed to the rattling banshee scream...

    GONE WITH A TRACE by Ashley Jones

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    Gone with a Trace by Ashley Jones    “Ahh!”, I said. A piercing scream escapes my mouth.    My fate is sealed just like Monica. It all started with that damn box. Time stopped. Dusty orange strawberry...

    AGAINST ALL ODDS by Michael Emeka

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    Against All Odds By Michael Emeka The first time I saw Chetachi after she moved into our house, she was in the backyard, brushing her teeth. Even through the toothpaste foam, I could tell she had...

    HER PINK ROSE TEACUP by Lisa Reily

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    Her Pink Rose Teacup Steve was just another in a long line of men. But he was kinder somehow. So Gemma married him. She felt nothing on their wedding day and just went through the...

    BARISTA BOB by Lana Ayers

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    Barista Bob had gotten so used to people of Cape Misty calling him Barista Bob, he sometimes forgot he had any other names. So, when Detective Peters asked him for his full legal name for...

    LUCKY CHARMS by Ed Meek

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    I had hitched down to L.A. to visit my friend Paul back in the 70s when all you needed to get someplace was a thumb. I was going to school at U of Montana...

    WINTER’S CALL by Brian Schulz

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                It has been snowing for eight days.  Steady snow, constant, hour after hour.  Sometimes heavy, occasionally just in wisps.  The wind has come up a couple of times and stirred things, whipping the...

    THE ENGLISH SUITE by Sebastian Raedler

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    I make my way down the stairs, careful not to overtax the joints. Small, deliberate steps are the rhythm of my days: slow and steady, unexciting and painless. But as soon as I sit...