Unravel

by D Kershaw

“You be respectful of his remains,” the Acting Superintendent snarls. “He was one of us!”

  I blink. “I always am.”

  More so than the forensic pathologist, scraping away. Or photographers, flashing-flash-flashing. Or the investigators, clomping around looking for the murder weapon. Crime scene cleaners care. Truly we do.

  He slams the door and I’m alone. The corpse is gone, of course. Just a lake of his blood and fragments of skull and hair.

  I lift the handle of my heavy mop, tut at the stain at its blunt end.

  Subcontracting out to some domestic cleaning agency?

  Not on my watch.

  LIAM HOGAN is a London based short story writer, the host of Liars’ League, and a Ministry of Stories mentor. His story “Ana”, appears in Best of British Science Fiction 2016 (NewCon Press) and his twisted fantasy collection, “Happy Ending Not Guaranteed”, is published by Arachne Press.

  Website: happyendingnotguaranteed.blogspot.co.uk

  Twitter: @LiamJHogan

  The Intruder

  by Gregg Cunningham

  Barry’s hand reached for the wall, blindly sliding along the wallpaper until he found the doorway and inched through.

  His heart was beating so fast as he tried to keep his thoughts of who lurked inside the house at bay. He knew he had to be so careful, one wrong footfall on the squeaky wooden flooring under the carpet would give away his position. But as Barry entered the bedroom, he realised he was right, the Millers were still on holiday and the house was vacant.

  He smiled, unzipped his backpack and began packing it with whatever he could find.

  GREGG CUNNINGHAM 48, short story writer who has had to pick up his game since stumbling into facebook writer’s groups. He has stories published by 559 Publishing in in 13 Bites volume 3,4,5, Plan 9 from Outer space, Other Realms, Heard It on The Radio, 559 Ways to Die, short stories publishing by Zombie Pirate Publishing in Relationship add Vice, Full Metal Horror, Phuket Tattoo, World War four and Flash Fiction Addiction (flash) with Zombie Pirate Publishing, and also in Daastan Magazine Chapter 11 and Brian,Rich and the Wardrobe.

  Amazon: www.amazon.com/-/e/B016OTHX0K

  Website: cortlandsdogs.wordpress.com

  Maggie

  by Rhiannon Bird

  “Ma’am, I have to ask you to move away,” I said, stepping towards her. Silent tears ran down her face and her hands fisted into her gown.

  “This is my house. I need to know what’s going on.”

  “I know. Calm down and please move away from the crime scene.”

  “Crime scene?” I winced at her tone; it was bordering on hysterics. She gasped, “My daughter. What are you doing with Maggie?”

  I sighed. Of course, I had to be the one to tell her that her husband was in the hospital and it was Maggie that put him there.

  RHIANNON BIRD is a young aspiring author. She has a passion for words and storytelling. Rhiannon has her own quotes blog; Thoughts of a Writer. She has had 4 works published. This includes 3 short stories and 2 poems. These are published on Eskimo pie, Literary yard, Down in the Dirt Magazine and Short break fiction. She can be found on Facebook, Instagram, and Pinterest.

  Project Infertility

  by Aditya Deshmukh

  “Look at me.” D784 dragged P030 up.

  P030 glanced away.

  “Is it possible?” D784 forced his head towards hers. “Did you corrupt the System?” Her eyes twinkled.

  P030 nodded. “I had to. Remember the days before the System?”

  “Days of chaos.”

  “No, Freedom. Now we just follow orders from a stupid computer. Free will is extinct.”

  D784 unlocked his hand cuffs.

  “You’re releasing me?”

  “The System estimated my child wouldn’t contribute much to the society. They took my fertility.” D784 smiled. “Go, merge the rebellions into one single invincible force. I’ll assist you. It’s time to make the System infertile.”

  ADITYA DESHMUKH is a mechanical engineering student who likes exploring the mechanics of writing as much as he likes tinkering with machines. He writes dark fiction and poetry. He is published in over three dozen anthologies and has a poetry book “Opium Hearts” and a collection of drabbles coming out soon. He likes chatting with people who share similar interests, so feel free to check him out.

  Facebook: adityadeshmukhwrites

  Website: www.adityadeshmukh.com

  Cliché

  by Rennie St. James

  The world is a stage and all men are actors. Everyone wears a mask. They are trite and overused, but true. I set my stage and wore my mask. No one was the wiser...until you.

  There was a spurt of something like joy because I was no longer alone. You saw the real me.

  Here’s another cliché—two people can only keep a secret if one of them is dead.

  My mask remains in place, and my stage is still set. The lack of your tell-tale smile on stage with me is a price I’m willing and able to pay.

  RENNIE ST. JAMES shares several similarities with her fictional characters (heroes and villains alike) including a love of chocolate, horror movies, martial arts, history, yoga, and travel. She doesn’t have a pet mountain lion but is proudly owned by three rescue kitties. They live in relative harmony in beautiful southwestern Virginia (United States). The first three books of Rennie’s urban fantasy series, The Rahki Chronicles, are available now. A new series and several standalone stories are already in the works as future releases.

  Website: writerRSJ.com

  The Knife

  by Alanna Robertson-Webb

  The tool I used to liberate my son is sitting on my dresser, like a trophy. I’m happy that I was finally able to free him, and I couldn’t be more proud of his cheerful attitude.

  Right now he’s sitting next to me, his cute little face upturned in a grin. Some of his baby teeth have left gaps in his roguish grin, but I can fix that. I’ll also need to sew the slit I made in his throat, but getting his blood out of our clothes will be harder.

  At least he’s free from years of cancer now.

  ALANNA ROBERTSON-WEBB is a sales support member by day, and a writer and editor by night. She loves VT, and live in PA. She has been writing since she was five years old, and writing well since she was seventeen years old. She lives with a fiance and a cat, both of whom take up most of her bed space. She loves to L.A.R.P., and one day she aspired to write a horrifyingly fantastic novel. Her short horror stories have been published before, but she still enjoys remaining mysterious.

  Reddit: MythologyLovesHorror

  The Price

  by Chris Bannor

  Some crimes never got solved. Some deaths didn’t make sense. He looked around the hallowed ground, eyes roaming over green grass and sparsely populated trees. A pond rested on the outer edges of the quiet where a woman sat near a newly made grave.

  It was one of many such scenes that would decorate his career. This was his first big case but even when the murderer was caught, it didn’t bring the dead back. He memorised the moment so that he would never grow callused against it. No matter how many they caught, the price was always too high.

  CHRIS BANNOR is a science fiction and fantasy writer who lives in Southern California. Chris learned her love of genre stories from her mother at an early age and has never veered far from that path. She also enjoys musical theater and road trips with her family, but is a general homebody otherwise.

  Twitter: @BannorChris

  An Eye for an Eye

  by Beth W. Patterson

  I don’t like the term “cyber-creeping.” I just want to have a little fun. It’s been almost ten years since John and I called off our wedding, but I have to put his new girlfriend in her place.

  At first, I was careless, and she blocked me on social media. But I know her favourite place to sit in City Park: a bench under a huge oak tree full of wind chimes. The Google Maps satellite passes right over it. I’ll zoom in...

  What i
s she doing with my children on her lap? Oh God, why are their eyes missing?

  BETH W. PATTERSON was a full-time musician for over two decades before diving into the world of writing, a process she describes as “fleeing the circus to join the zoo”. She is the author of the books Mongrels and Misfits, and The Wild Harmonic, and a contributing writer to thirty anthologies. Patterson has performed in eighteen countries, expanding her perspective as she goes. Her playing appears on over a hundred and seventy albums, soundtracks, videos, commercials, and voice-overs (including seven solo albums of her own). She lives in New Orleans, Louisiana with her husband Josh Paxton, jazz pianist extraordinaire.

  Website: www.bethpattersonmusic.com

  Facebook: bethodist

  An Eerie Homage

  By Olivia Arieti

  Lady Lucinda’s murder had to be re-examined; nobody could believe that such a reserved and devoted soul had been so brutally assassinated.

  Since friends and family appeared quite forgetful of whatever detail, the investigator had the coffin re-opened.

  Surprisingly, the gardener’s corpse, a blood crusted knife in his hand, was lying above the woman as though he had just stabbed her while their decomposed jaws touched like in a final kiss.

  Sir Reginald, after killing his wife, and shortly afterwards, her lover, had him secretly placed in the same grave; his homage to the adulterers for masking his deadly deeds.

  OLIVIA ARIETI has a degree from the University of Pisa and lives in Torre del Lago Puccini, Italy, with her family. Besides being a published playwright, she loves writing retellings of fairy tales, and at the same time is intrigued by supernatural and horror themes. Her stories appeared in several magazines and anthologies like Enchanted Conversations, Enchanted Tales Literary Magazine, Fantasia Divinity Magazine, Cliterature, Medieval Nightmares, Static Movement, 100 Doors To Madness Forgotten Tomb Press, Black Cats Horrified Press, Bloody Ghost Stories Full Moon Books, Death And Decorations Thirteen O’Clock Press, Infective Ink, Pandemonium Press, Pussy Magic Magazine.

  Find Me

  by Susanne Thomas

  The police had failed Tim once again.

  He’d left three fingerprints this time, and they hadn’t found even one of them.

  He’d left a hair two fires ago, and they’d missed it in all the soot.

  At this next fire, he was going to leave a piece from a shirt identical to the one he always wore.

  If that didn’t work, he had no idea what else he could do. He needed to light the matches. These buildings would burn bright, and it was going be beautiful.

  But if they didn’t stop him soon, someone was going to get hurt.

  SUSANNE THOMAS reads, writes, parents, and teaches from the windy west in Wyoming, and she loves fantasy, science fiction, speculative fiction, poetry, children’s books, science, coffee, and puns.

  Website: www.themightierpenn.com

  Facebook: SusanneThomasAuthor

  Shared Goals

  By Eddie D. Moore

  Sheriff Johnson lifted the crime scene tape as Detective Morgan slipped under it. The detective stepped carefully around blood splatter as he studied the apartment. He inspected the corpse on the floor and eyed the bloody knife beside it.

  “Is this the work of our vigilante?” asked the Sheriff.

  The detective nodded and opened an evidence bag. “Yes, the victim is a human trafficking suspect, but we didn’t have enough evidence to charge him.”

  The detective wiped the fingerprints from the knife before bagging it.

  The Sheriff’s jaw dropped open. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m keeping the crime rate down.”

  EDDIE D. MOORE travels hundreds of hours a year, and he fills that time by listening to audiobooks. When he isn’t playing with his grandchildren, he writes his own stories. You can find a list of his publications on his blog or by visiting his Amazon Author Page. While you’re there, be sure to pick up a copy of his mini-anthology Misfits & Oddities.

  Website: eddiedmoore.wordpress.com

  Amazon: amazon.com/author/eddiedmoore

  Crop Circle

  by Pamela Jeffs

  The sunflower crop is ruined. Claw-toed footprints pepper my front yard. A crop circle is branded into the far hill.

  And there are noises coming from the barn.

  I approach holding a shovel close. My only weapon. There’s another high, yowling shriek. Carefully, I unlock the rear door. It swings open silently. I peer around the corner, the shovel held high.

  It’s the Donoghue twins—surrounded by broken flowers, rakes and petrol cans.

  “Some aliens come visit ya last night, Mrs Pettigrew?” they snigger.

  Little bastards.

  I grit my teeth and raise the shovel high.

  I’ll give them bloody aliens!

  PAMELA JEFFS is a speculative fiction author living in Queensland, Australia with her husband and two daughters. She is a member of the Queensland Writers’ Centre and has had numerous short fiction pieces published in recent national and international anthologies. In 2017 and again in 2018, Pamela was nominated for an Australian Aurealis Award in the category of ‘Best Science Fiction Short Story’. Her debut collection titled ’Red Hour and Other Strange Tales’ was released in March 2018.

  Website: www.pamelajeffs.com

  Facebook: pamelajeffsauthor

  The Poison Poisoner

  by Shawn M. Klimek

  Detective Givens signalled the waiters to refill every champagne glass and then chimed his own to signal a toast. “Forgive this break from tradition,” he pleaded, bowing towards the head table, “but I cannot wait to toast two of the boldest, most cold-blooded poisoners to ever crash a wedding.” He raised an arresting palm to silence the gasps and mutterings. “Have no fear! The waiters are even now distributing an antidote to the first poison. At twice the dosage, however, this antidote itself becomes deadly, which makes me the second poisoner. Now, shall we all drink to discover the first?”

  SHAWN M. KLIMEK is the middle child of seven creative siblings, a globetrotting, U.S. military spouse, an internationally best-selling short-story writer, award-winning poet, and butler to a Maltese. More than one hundred of his stories and poems have been published in digital magazines or anthologies, including BHP’s Deep Space, Eerie Christmas and every book so far in the Dark Drabbles series.

  Website: jotinthedark.blogspot.com

  Facebook: shawnmklimekauthor

  A Note

  by Joel R. Hunt

  When he got home from work, he found the driveway vacant, the house abandoned. His wardrobe had been emptied of his wife’s clothing. His children’s rooms had been ransacked.

  There was a note in the kitchen, ink still drying.

  I’M LEAVING YOU. I TOOK THE KIDS. DON’T TRY TO FIND US.

  He went straight to the police, who said he was in denial. To them, it was clear that his wife had been dissatisfied and left when she had the chance.

  He begged. He shouted. He waved the note in their faces.

  Why wouldn’t they listen?

  It wasn’t her handwriting.

  JOEL R. HUNT is a writer from the UK who dabbles in the darker aspects of life, particularly through horror, science fiction and the supernatural. He has been published here and there (though likely nowhere you’ve heard of) and hopes to have released his first anthology of short stories later this year.

  Twitter: @JoelRHunt1

  Reddit: JRHEvilInc

  The King

  by Alanna Robertson-Webb

  Being a Scotland Yard detective is a rough job. Day in and day out I solve cases for His Royal Majesty, always without so much as a “Thank you, good job!”

  His dogs show more love towards his subjects than he does.

  I’ve been at this job for twenty-six years, and last night my bonus came through.

  I awoke this morning to shouts of “The King is dead!” Mourners lined the streets, and babies wailed at the commotion.
<
br />   The best part?

  They put me on the case, and I know a little secret they don’t: I’ll never turn myself in.

  ALANNA ROBERTSON-WEBB is a sales support member by day, and a writer and editor by night. She loves VT, and live in PA. She has been writing since she was five years old, and writing well since she was seventeen years old. She lives with a fiance and a cat, both of whom take up most of her bed space. She loves to L.A.R.P., and one day she aspired to write a horrifyingly fantastic novel. Her short horror stories have been published before, but she still enjoys remaining mysterious.

  Reddit: MythologyLovesHorror

  Trapped by the Payroll

  by Abi Linhardt

  They hired me to find missing girls. Followed a few leads, waited outside a bar. Tracked one drunk sorority girl to another and I found out the girls were in love with suave out-of-towners with fancy accents and mysterious eyes.

  “They ran away together,” one of the sisters told me. No note? No last-ditch fuck you to their parents?