Ran out of toilet paper. Had to use paper towels. Not recommended. Jerri, my ex, bought toilet paper, the dish soap, and all that other household stuff. So I got in the car and drove to Target. Wha…

The Widow Parkhurst stood at the door to the farmhouse, looking out into the moonlit prairie night. The farm seemed deserted. The wheat danced in the breeze. But somewhere out there her cat was yow…

Despite dragging my generously-called-a-prosthetic pogo stick of a leg through this dungeon, I’m practically dancing like it’s the aisle on The Price is Right. I might not be the only one to make i…

In my first death I died alone, pierced through the belly with a velociraptor talon. I bled out before I felt much of anything, floating into a black void. It was quiet and and peaceful and still, …

The museum warehouse was more than ample space for Polyphemus, and he could make it a true home with just a little effort. That’s what Gale, his social worker from the Department of Mythical Beings…

A gathering of recent speculative flash & micro fiction, each presenting a tiny-yet-powerful universe. How tiny? About one-thousand words for flash; four-hundred words for micro. The word count…

In the tangle of streets affectionately referred to as the Haystack, set away from the worst of Puxhill’s downtown chaos, there’s a place where shops come and go at their own whim, usually with no …

In this universe, time runs in reverse. Though, I suppose that’s all relative. From my point of view, time is moving backwards, at least for the moment. And not a moment too soon. The spots fade fr…

Science Fiction - Fantasy - Supernatural - Superhero

A harp made of bones, they say, will only ever play a single song. Haunting, my listeners called my melody, and beautiful. My fingers glided over the sinuous strings and my voice, the harp’s voice,…

A harp made of bones, they say, will only ever play a single song. Haunting, my listeners called my melody, and beautiful. My fingers glided over the sinuous strings and my voice, the harp’s voice,…

Detective Renaud burst onto the metaphysical plane at the entrance to the Night Market. He absently patted himself down, an idiosyncrasy to realign his consciousness with his dream-self and away fr…

She returns home one night with four sunflowers clutched in her arms like a quartet of freshly baked French baguettes, trailing dirt from their upwrenched roots. “Look,” she says, &#822…

A harp made of bones, they say, will only ever play a single song. Haunting, my listeners called my melody, and beautiful. My fingers glided over the sinuous strings and my voice, the harp’s voice,…

The Shadow-Sticks The troubles of the world ooze into their sleep. Their dreams of comfort darken with despair, draining them raw, leaving them brittle. It is time to rejuvenate, so the world can h…

The moment I return from the future, all I want is to talk to you, but so much gets in the way. First the debrief, with endless hours about what I saw, the analysis of the recordings, and the tedio…

The museum warehouse was more than ample space for Polyphemus, and he could make it a true home with just a little effort. That’s what Gale, his social worker from the Department of Mythical Beings…

Because It Is My Nature by Derek Wagner in Factor Four A kaiju appears through the portal. The humans have encountered them before. T...

A gathering of recent speculative flash & micro fiction, each presenting a tiny-yet-powerful universe. How tiny? About one-thousand words for flash; four-hundred words for micro. The word count…

I was stuck in front of the mirror, running late. Mark had already been shed, his work clothes tossed on the ground, and in the mirror his short perma-bedhead had grown into Hailey’s shoulder-lengt…

Two Men On A Dirt Road Who Understand The World by Daniel Roop in Factor Four Carl Sanders comes out into rural Tennessee to train Sa...

He drove up from the city in July of ‘67, to teach me how to turn words into money, to speak magic to bend people to my will. His red Chevrolet gleamed like Eve’s apple as he eased into the gravel …

I was stuck in front of the mirror, running late. Mark had already been shed, his work clothes tossed on the ground, and in the mirror his short perma-bedhead had grown into Hailey’s shoulder-lengt…