A hedge reared up and Sarah braked hard. She swung the steering wheel, skidding through the turn and almost plunging the car into a ditch. She should slow down. She couldn’t see a bloody thing on the unlit lane. Branches clawed at the door as she bucked and bounced. The chassis groaned. She hadn’t even…
Category: Fiction
Issue 9.4 – Fiction
Matthew Kowalski stood over the kitchen sink and ate bacon. He let the crumbs fall into the porcelain basin and turned on the faucet to wash them away. His wife, Karen, usually made a big breakfast Sunday mornings for him and their boy, Ruby, but three weeks ago they’d helped him move into his dorm…
Issue 9.3 – Fiction
Ignacio was a repeat customer. Although this fact was no good at all for him, Karina didn’t mind writing his name in her planner, as she rather liked him from the beginning. He was handsome, but not unapproachably so. Tall and thin, with dark skin that promised to turn leathery in two or three more…
Issue 9.2 – Fiction
Please don’t laugh. I understand that, on the long list of things which most people would notice following them home, an ice-cream truck would be high on that list. If nothing else, you would think the relentless metallic jingle playing on an endless loop would alert someone to the fact that they’re being tailed. …
Issue 9.1 – Fiction
In a motel, outside of Vegas, I lay awake staring at the ceiling. Wes is snoring, curled up with his bunny that used to be mine. I want to turn on the TV but Wes needs to sleep and so do I. Mom says she’ll be home before five. She taught me how to read…
Issue 8.5 – Fiction
I have to cancel. I have to. He’ll hate me, but I can live with that. Maybe. I mean, what kind of bitch cancels a coffee date? Me, apparently. He’s so nice though, so sweet and kind and honest. Honest. So I should be honest too, right? I could go and then tell him. When…
Issue 8.4 – Fiction
Last night I dreamed I went to Infinity again. I was wearing a long, blue dress adorned with glitter, and drinking a martini from a coned glass. You were wearing a grey dress, and sipping cider. How we met was a cliché, but then again, everything here is a cliché, isn’t it? Our eyes met…
Issue 8.3 – Fiction
M.I.S.T.R.E.S.S. PHYSICAL DATA LOG 9:30 a.m. December 18th, 2247 Reboot. Reboot. My systems race trying to unscramble the received signals. This has never happened before. I am mathematically perfect; there is no room for error within my code. I am adaptable to any situation presented to me. Static buzzes behind my eyes and I lose…
Issue 8.2 – Fiction
One thing she begged of him was that he should never love her in that emulative way, that way in which young people do celebrities which causes them to imitate their styles of dress and speech. She never begged it out loud, though, because she couldn’t find the way of saying it that was empty…
Issue 8.1 – Fiction
When it was obvious that he wasn’t coming, Francine put the angel hair and the Texas toast under foil and got moving. This was her day off and she had things to do and she wouldn’t be caught dead not doing them on account of some prick. She turned on Keeping Up with the Kardashians…
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