Home Fiction - Year VII - Number 53 - January 2022

Fiction - Year VII - Number 53 - January 2022

    AN INCIDENT WITH SOME CRACK by Daniel Senser

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    What can I say? I was a pot head. Of course, it was more complicated than that. I needed an escape because I was so blind to the way life really was, that a...

    PRODIGY by Mark Czanik

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    Prodigy ‘I’ve just been to Paris for a year.’      ‘Oh, that’s nice,’ said Sadie, looking up from her decimated brassica bed to see a little girl standing on the path.      ‘I can speak four languages...

    BLUISH FINGERS by Milena Galdino

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    On that night, when Juruna was on his hammock, he read the starts in a different way. Natives in South America have this obsession over the sky and the stars for they are divine....

    THE PURPLE FLYING ELEPHANT by Joram Piatigorsky

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    Charlie, a shoe salesman, jumped out of bed, startled that it was already 8:30. His United Airlines Flight was scheduled for 10:22. Now he didn’t even have time for breakfast. He had set the...

    ERASING by Deirdre Fryer Baird

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    I have no idea why I’m here. I see my distorted reflection in the shiny chrome elevator doors, but I don’t look like myself. I know I came here for a reason; I just...

    STORMY’S BAR by Doug Smith

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    Tom’s hospice patient wore a three-piece suit for Tom’s initial visit. In addition to the three-piece suit, Jim wore a freshly pressed white and blue striped shirt and a red tie. His hair was...

    A CLEAN SLATE by Michael Bryan

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    A Clean Slate With his washer at home broken, Rafe decided to do all his laundry at the same time at the Water Whirled laundromat. Rafe Reached into his pocket and felt the tiny ridges...

    LIKE THEY’RE WAITING by David Biddle

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    Like They’re Waiting Most mornings I drank coffee on the back porch observing as they foraged on vine berries, honeysuckle, and new grass. The cat perched on a crumbling stone wall to watch over them....

    RED by Zeyneb Kaya

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    When they told us to stand, we all rose. When they told us to look ahead, we directed our gaze. When they told us, silence, we let the quiet still around us. There was...

    THE GIFT by Nancy Lines

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    Sundays in the Russell household were usually quiet – relatively quiet, at least. There were no nurses or other hospice staff bustling about, taking Rob’s blood pressure, asking him how he feels, checking his...