Home Fiction - Year IV - Number 21 - February 2019

Fiction - Year IV - Number 21 - February 2019

    THE VEIL OF JUDGMENT by Pauline Duchesneau

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    THE VEIL OF JUDGMENTby Pauline Duchesneau The slam of the heavy steel door and the mechanized latching of innumerable locks dropped lead into my gut. I’d tried and failed to prepare for this moment. I...

    NO BETTER REASON THAN THIS by Torrie Jay White

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    NO BETTER REASON THAN THISby Torrie Jay White The cabin smells like my grandfather as a young man. Like my mother’s skin in her last days. Like the gunpowder in my father’s pistol. Like the...

    ALL OF NEPTUNE’S OCEANS by Rina Sclove

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    ALL OF NEPTUNE’S OCEANSby Rina Sclove Her hands are the only part of her that isn’t scarred.Everything else is marked, claimed, her skin varying shades of angry red and blistering purple, puckered and dry and...

    WHALE BONE by David Massey

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    WHALE BONEby David Massey The young man accompanied me outside to enjoy the air and sun.  So balmy out here always in July.  We walked slowly toward this swing, my favorite place to watch the...

    THE LITTLE DOG by Eric Massey

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    THE LITTLE DOGby Eric Massey There once was a little dog.  His name was Rex.  He lived in a small house in a small town.  He didn’t know what the town was called because, well,...

    THE WALL BETWEEN US by John C. Weil

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    THE WALL BETWEEN USby John C. Weil  We walked with the wall between us, just as Robert Frost described.We picked up the stones, each of them still cold from the winter.I stopped a moment to...

    GOD’S OWN by Samuel Buckley

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    GOD'S OWNby Samuel R. Buckley I. Adulthood Nick’s fists thump the counter: come on.His teeth crush his lips: come on.His eyes move from the lurid displays set about the windows and shelves to the forbidden library...

    WHAT DID YOU SEE? By Joel Worford

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    WHAT DID YOU SEE?by Joel Worford It’s eleven P.M. and your hand is on your belt. You don’t see me. There are no streetlights in this neighborhood, so at first, you don’t see me. Or...

    JULIE IN CHICAGO by Eric Lutz

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    JULIE IN CHICAGOby Eric Lutz Julie sat on her balcony. It was midday on a Wednesday. She wore khaki shorts, a lime green bikini top, and sunglasses. She drank Tecate and listened to Otis Redding...

    GUILT MONOLOGUE by Don Dussault

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    GUILT MONOLOGUEby Don Dussault For me everything is in the present tense. Whatever whoever slips away into the past I yank it back. Here something of me thrives. And him. Too much of him. Straight...