Home Fiction - Year III - Number 11 - January 2018

Fiction - Year III - Number 11 - January 2018

    UNDESIRABLES by Dustin Pickering

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    UNDESIRABLESby Dustin Pickering Some nights are more intense than others. Any night Ms. Courtney Devra sang is one of those nights. Her voice is serene and hypnotic, full of...

    THE FOREVER LETTER by Abigayle Thompson

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    THE FOREVER LETTERby Abigayle Thompson That afternoon an invitation was placed in the mailbox outside the Roney’s home.  It was the end of February, a cold day with clouds...

    FORREST HILLS by John Tavares

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    FOREST HILLSJohn Tavares After Ollie served nearly a full sentence, officials decided to release him from the juvenile detention facility early. They shortened his detention term after he helped...

    PLIE, ADJUST, TUNDU, TAP by Jean E. Verthein

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    PLIE, ADJUST, TUNDU, TAPby Jean E. Verthein Three in the morning. The phone rang. It did, didn’t it? After all, detectives called for midnight lineups to check whether the...

    BEFORE THE DINER by Tim Urban

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    BEFORE THE DINERby Timothy Urban  Driving down the interstate with his Uncle Tucker behind the wheel, Mathew stewed over how he was going to get back at that bully...

    AND THEN WHAT COULD YOU DO? By Maureen McCafferty

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    AND THEN WHAT COULD YOU DO?by Maureen McCafferty The doctor stood behind her desk, offering a steady hand and smile, as if Maeve had come to open a checking...

    IT WILL BE FOREVER by Jeff Richards

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    IT WILL BE FOREVERby Jeff Richards Richard Sager lost his virginity in the spring of 1967 before our road trip across country to break in the red Mustang convertible...

    GORSE by Ben Rosenthal

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    GORSEby Ben Rosenthal They picked up Wild Gorse at McCarren International and there he was, dragging a reptile skin embossed travel case. He wore a mackerel-colored seersucker meant to...

    A WEEKEND IN DECEIT by Brett Kaplan

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    A BAD MAN GOING THROUGH A SAD THINGby Alan Kulatti Her eyes were not blue. They weren’t green. Must’ve been brown. She had brown eyes and she called me...

    WET FEET, DRY FEET by Taylor Lovullo

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    WET FEET, DRY FEETby Taylor Lovullo HAVANA, 1994It was exactly 2:30am, and Joaquin left his small house located in Vedado, a small neighborhood outside of the city. He shut...