Fiction - Year V - Number 42 - November 2020

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

            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...

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...