Harry the Mountain Man – Part Two
Short Story THE TIME I ROBBED A BANK I must’ve been just about 25 at the time, WHOO that was a long time ago. Now, just about that time, I had fallen in with...
Short stories & poems for everyone from everyone
Short Story THE TIME I ROBBED A BANK I must’ve been just about 25 at the time, WHOO that was a long time ago. Now, just about that time, I had fallen in with...
Short Story In which the baffling buffoonery of the Boonesvillian banditos begins Hiding in an alley across the street from Gitcha Goods, peeking around the corner, crouching in the darkness, and generally exhibiting shifty...
Short Story I woke covered in freezing dew, my teeth chattering. My first impulse was to go back home, to curl up in my parents bed, but I knew I could never go back...
We spent a month at a bookstore in the old Latin Quarter of Paris. The old shop had a long history of allowing aspiring writers to bunk there as long as they worked a couple...
Short Story I sat down, calm yet anxious and began to prepare my shot. I got my kit from a well placed and convenient hiding spot beneath the couch. I went through the...
Short Story *Excerpt from travels in India, December 2011.* The human gaze, no matter if it is good, bad or indifferent, can be intense and enigmatic if we don’t know what is behind that...
Short Story Scowl-face stifled a laugh as I pushed past her and out the door, whose bells jingled cheerily and ruined my exit. I opened the car door and my mouth to explain...
Dystopian Short Stories Trent Coy was a man of 20 by the time the Tramp came knocking on his door. The young man had worked hard and fast. He already was married and had...
Short Story My fingers touched the old door, and I pushed. It swayed open with a long creak, breaking the silence, sighing after finally being opened once again. The dusty light from the...
Narrative Fiction Well, by the end of the next year, all that Robert Burns, my boyfriend, my rebel stuff had ended. It had all backfired on me. But I’ll get to that later. It...
Short Story We were eleven and I loved her. I didn’t care what my friends said, or when they made kissy faces at us during recess when we held hands. She was Maisee Green and...
Serial Fiction Surely one morning after an important meeting she came in late handing him a report that was due the week before. Not only this but the paper was stained with coffee and...