Home Fiction - Year V - Number 42 - November 2020

Fiction - Year V - Number 42 - November 2020

    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...

    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...

    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,...

    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...

    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...

    DIXON RIDGE by Jim Woessner

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    A brass bell suspended in a wooden frame stands in a square of hard-packed yellow dirt about the same area as a two-car garage. They call it a park, but it’s not...

    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...

    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...

    ALL FLOWERS MUST EVENTUALLY WILT by Natalie Hampton

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                All flowers must eventually wilt.             Sweat clings to his pasty skin, pooling at the base of his back. Are his hands too clammy? Is his face pallid...

    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...