• Crime,  Memoir,  Short Story

    Covert Operation Calico by L. Lisa Lawrence

    The story you are about to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. Since no one was actually innocent, I didn’t bother. There are friends you call in the dark of the night, when you need someone to help move furniture. That was my friend Houston S Wimberly the Third. There are friends you call in the dark of the night, when you need to move a body… Apparently, that would be me. To continue reading Covert Operation Calico click here.

  • Fiction,  Novel Excerpt,  Short Story

    The Golden Eagle Casino by Alec Clayton

    Eyes turn their way when Pop and Melissa glide into the Golden Eagle Casino. Dressed in a style she laughingly calls slutty-chic, Melissa looks like some kind of sexy film noir vamp. She wears a black fedora with a red silk band. The wide brim is tipped forward to cast a shadowed veil across her dark eyes. Her hair is not truly black but dark, dark brown tinted with Venetian highlights. It flows like oil across naked shoulders. Her black gown sparkles with red glitter that matches the rich red highlights in her hair. Men stare in anticipation as her breasts threaten to pop out and her long thighs scissor…

  • Fiction,  Short Story

    She Thinks by Nick Stokes

    Nothing. There is nothing there. Footsteps on the porch. Her own? She is inside, within, she’s sure, at least most of her. Should she shoot? It’s a moral question. She sees darkness, which implies absence of light, which is not what she thinks she sees until she’s thought it. Can one shoot one’s footsteps if one is inside and one’s footsteps are outside? It’s a question of morality. Can she smell herself? Yes, she thinks. She does not think the stink; the stink is free of her. Of her. Emanated, she wishes she hadn’t thought. The stink is material evidence of her presence. She can imagine she imagines the footsteps;…

  • Fantasy, Sci-fi,  Fiction,  Short Story

    The Visitor by Angela Jossy

    I know its a cliche but let me start by saying: Don’t freak out. Sorry to wake you. Yes, I am in fact a ghost but let me assure you, I’m not a murderous ghost. Sure, I can kill with impunity but, ya know, it gets old. Human lives come and go so quickly anyway. What’s the point really? The reason I am appearing in front of you today is I wanted to ask you for a favor. As favors go, this ones a doozy. Do people still say doozy? Nevermind. Don’t answer that. Like snuffing people out for entertainment, following the lexicon of the modern American vernacular has also…

  • Crime,  Fiction,  Short Story

    Augie by Jack Cameron

    “This is a great apartment…” There was a pause after he said it. Augie was fairly certain the boy could not remember his name. Augie didn’t mind. He wasn’t sure of the boy’s name either. Tony, Troy, something with a ‘T’. He watched from the bed as the boy walked around his apartment. The boy had his shirt off. Augie was enjoying the view. This boy was probably half Augie’s age with skin so white it looked like milk. He had that farm-boy-in-the-city look to him. Augie wondered how many times the boy had done this sort of thing. The boy picked up a framed photo from the dresser. Augie…