Fiction - Year V - Number 42 - November 2020

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 much of...

            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 and sickly? And why does he...

                                                                                                         Where the Money Isn’t                                                                                Ron Singer              “Because that’s where the money is,” was either Willie “The Actor” Sutton’s reply to some journalist’s softball question, “Why do you rob banks?” --or fake...

Pulpit Rock: A Reverie in Three Acts Roger McKnight                I Hank Standish saved his and Hanna’s serving cup after City bus 12 rammed a curb, but nothing stopped the chocolate sundae from swishing onto her white...

Skeletons in the Closet Sometimes families have secrets.  And sometimes curiosity gets the better of folks.  I was maybe eight or nine. One thing for sure, the age of reason hadn’t kicked in yet. In...

The Two-Tailed Monster Cat The hauntings began three days after Ishani moved from India to Kyoto. She moved through narrow straight roads, with traditional Machiya-style houses, adorned with paper-lanterns. She was running away from something—...

The Deathwatch Wood termites gnaw away at the womb of the furniture. Underneath the smooth surface lies a labyrinth of endlessly long narrow tunnels. Black columns within. They tap away in the throes of...