Home Fiction - Year III - Number 14 - July 2018

Fiction - Year III - Number 14 - July 2018

    OUR SALLY by Ruth Deming

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    OUR  SALLYby Ruth Deming  Over the years, The Newman Girls followed the fortunes of their next door neighbors in Shaker Heights, the fashionable suburb of Cleveland, Ohio. It was...

    WE COULD SMOKE by Mackenzie Gasperson

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    WE COULD SMOKEby Mackenzie Gasperson  “Smoke?” Robert’s voice was suddenly behind me. It made me jump, and sent a shiver down my spine that only made the cold air...

    THRIFT SHOP SWAN by Terry Sanville

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    THRIFT SHOP SWANby Terry Sanville Eugene folded his umbrella, stomped on the welcome mat, then entered the Goodwill Store.The floor manager, Mingo, motioned him over. “If I were you,...

    DAGGER by Maureen Grace

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    DAGGERby Maureen Grace “Ohhh,” he cried quietly, so as not to scare off the passers by; their handouts had allowed him to eek out the barest of succor for...

    DEATH ENTERS THE ROOM by Elaine Rosenberg Miller

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    DEATH ENTERS THE ROOMBy Elaine Rosenberg Miller “Did you hear that?”“What?” he said, his voice muffled by a pillow. The children were finally asleep. They followed...

    THE NEVER-ENDING WINDOW by Matt Ingoldby

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    THE NEVER-ENDING WINDOWby Matt Ingoldby It was sometime in April when I returned from the clinic for a period of rest. My uncle had agreed to pay rent in...

    A RECURRING DREAM by Ana Vidosavljevic

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    A RECURRING DREAMby Ana Vidosavljevic Mila woke up to the sound of Fajr prayer. It was still pitch-dark outside. She came close to the window and pulled back the...

    SEA COW by David H. Miller

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    SEA COWby D. Harrington Miller Edna’s knuckles cracked, a stark sound of snapping twigs that was muffled by the mud.  She clenched her fists again, letting the bones grind. ...

    HIT MEN HAVE FEELINGS TOO by Edward D. Hunt

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    HIT MEN HAVE FEELINGS TOOby Edward Daniel Hunt Boston’s North EndAfter dropping his boss, Albee, at home in Milton, Tony Gazzo returned to the North End. Albee Parillo after...

    TRADIO by Richard Luftig

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    TRADIOby Richard Luftig I stubbed out my tenth Winston of the morning. Thank God we were nearing the end of the show.            “We’re back,” I said, feigning enthusiasm.  “Time...