Unravel

by D Kershaw

  XIMENA ESCOBAR is an emerging author of literary fiction and poetry. Originally from Chile, she is the author of a translation into Spanish of the Broadway Musical “The Wizard of Oz”, and of an original adaptation of the same, “Navidad en Oz”. Clarendon House Publications published her first short story in the UK, “The Persistence of Memory”, and Literally Stories her first online publication with “The Green Light”. She has since had several acceptances from other publishers and is working very hard exploring new exciting avenues in her writing.

  She lives in Nottingham with her family.

  Facebook: Ximenautora

  The Limo Driver

  by J.M. Meyer

  The man everyone called Boss entered my limo with a beautiful young woman, smelling of too much alcohol and perfume.

  The woman turned on the stereo.

  “Married with kids?” Boss asked me.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. That’s good.”

  The privacy screen went up and I took them to the beach, as requested.

  I waited in the lot until I heard the back door reopen and the screen move down. He was alone.

  “My date decided to swim home. Does your family swim, young man?”

  “I understand.”

  I dropped him off at his family’s home.

  “I like you. I’ll see you next week.”

  J.M. MEYER is writer, artist and small business owner living in New York., where she received her master’s degree from Teacher’s College, Columbia University. Jacqueline loves the science fiction and horror genres. Reading Ray Bradbury was a mind-blowing experience for her in 8th grade. Alfred Hitchcock and Rod Serling were the horror heroes of her youth. Mercedes M. Yardley is her current horror writing hero. Jacqueline also enjoys the company of her husband Bruce and their three children, Julia, Emma and Lauren. Jacqueline’s mantra: The only time it’s too late to try something new is when you are dead.

  Website: jmoranmeyer.net

  Twitter: @moran_meyer

  Guillotined

  by Carole de Monclin

  I have a skeleton in my closet.

  Literally.

  I’m very fond of Marie Antoinette.

  When people visit, if the mood’s right, I proudly display her and point out the quality of her fine bones. Respectfully, of course.

  Others don’t take such good care of their skeletons. They even use them for pranks.

  Because I bought her cheap online, she doesn’t have a head, earning her name in the bargain.

  I cut up corpses, but hope to graduate soon to living bodies.

  “Familiarise yourself with death,” my mentor urged.

  I followed the advice.

  Every med student needs a skeleton for study.

  CAROLE DE MONCLIN travels both the real world and imaginary ones. She’s lived in France, Australia, and the USA; visited 25+ countries; and explored Mars, Ceres, and many distant planets. She writes to invite people on a journey. Stories have found her for as long as she can remember, be it in a cave in Victoria, the smile of a baby in Paris, or a museum in Florida.

  Website: CaroledeMonclin.com

  Twitter: @CaroledeMonclin

  Dear Mr. Hempshaw

  by Copper Rose

  Mr. Hempshaw put down his fork, a piece of white cake still stuck to the tines. The letter he’d received trembled in his hand.

  He turned to stare out the window, at the place in the yard he strolled over every so often. The place where he kept the scissors no one knew about, not even after thirty years.

  His eyes went again to the letter.

  It was August 17, 1989 at 2:00 in the afternoon.

  I was ten years old.

  The cake the police found on her kitchen counter was for me.

  I have something that belongs to you.

  COPPER ROSE perforates the edges of the page while writing unusual stories from the heart of Wisconsin. Her work has appeared in various anthologies and online journals. She also understands there really is something about pie. Website: julieceger.wordpress.com

  Facebook: Author Copper Rose

  Vacant

  by Umair Mirxa

  Vicar Bowmore picked his way carefully through the charred remains and came to stand beside the detective.

  “Do we know who the culprit is yet?” he asked.

  “No,” replied the detective dejectedly. “Whoever it is, they were meticulous as always. Didn’t leave a clue.”

  “People are scared, David. Some have already left town.”

  “We’re doing the best we can, Vicar.”

  “Four houses burnt down in a week. Thirteen dead. You need to do better. Thank the Lord, this one at least was vacant.”

  Detective Klimek let escape a pained sigh.

  “No, it wasn’t. We found two bodies in the backyard.”

  UMAIR MIRXA lives in Karachi, Pakistan. His first published story, ‘Awareness’, appeared on Spillwords Press. He has also had stories accepted for anthologies from Zombie Pirate Publishing, Blood Song Books, Fantasia Divinity Magazine and Publishing, and Iron Faerie Publishing. He is a massive J.R.R. Tolkien fan, and loves everything to do with fantasy and mythology. He enjoys football, history, music, movies, TV shows, and comic books, and wishes with all his heart that dragons were real.

  Website: www.umairmirxa.com

  Facebook: UMirxa12

  Competitive Streak

  by Susanne Thomas

  Mariel listened as the doctor pronounced death.

  It had taken many months to make sure that some of the chilli contestants tried almond flour as a secret ingredient and chilli thickener. Hers used maize, of course.

  She’d quietly worked to ensure that George Williams was the master taster. He’d almost allowed Bob Jetts to do the honours.

  And only she, as George’s wife, had known that he was deathly allergic to almond. He was so prideful about weakness, and almond was not a common chilli ingredient.

  He should have picked Mariel’s chilli last year; she was his wife after all.

  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

  Unlikeable

  by Serena Jayne

  Cindy elbowed Steve. “Would it kill you to like my cat photo?”

  He shrugged. “Can’t like everything.”

  “I like all your stuff. Even the boring oatmeal bowl.”

  “That pic got eighty likes.”

  Hardly anyone liked her posts, which featured Fluffy and Cindy’s crocheted creations.

  No one liked her online or in person, but everyone liked Steve.

  “Don’t look so glum. Social media isn’t real.”

  “This real enough?” She yanked her ice pick from its crocheted cosy and delivered a stab for each oatmeal like.

  Panting, sweaty, and gore splattered, she snapped shots of Steve’s bloody body.

  Finally, she went viral.

  SERENA JAYNE is a graduate of Seton Hill University’s Writing Popular Fiction MFA Program. Her short fiction and poetry can be found in Switchblade Magazine, the Drabble, Crack the Spine Literary Magazine, 101 Fiction, the Oddville Press, and other publications.

  Website: www.serenajayne.com

  Twitter: @SJ_Writer

  I See My Faults

  by Marcus Cook

  Barry Buhard was focused on the scalpel in my hand. I smiled.

  Recently, he’d scammed me out of $10 million dollars.

  “Please... Please, Eadhim. I’ll give the money back,” Barry pleaded as he continued to watch my very sharp scalpel.

  I put a gag in his mouth and instructed, “Close your eyes, but not tightly.”

  I ran the scalpel swiftly across both eyelids. Thankfully his screams were muffled. I could see by the size of his pupils, the
pain was excruciating.

  Holding up the scraps of skin, I peered into his eyes and said, “Now you can see, nobody scams me.”

  MARCUS COOK, lives in Cleveland, Ohio native with his wife and cat. He loves Sci-Fi and thrillers. His short story, Ava Edison and the Burning Man was recently published in Burning: An Anthology of Short Thrillers by Burning Chair Publishing which can be purchased on Amazon.

  Facebook: ReadMarcusCook

  The Man in My Room

  by Alanna Robertson-Webb

  I used to think that I was being haunted. Almost every night, a man would appear in my room, his hand hovering near my throat, and he would whisper that I’d be his.

  His touch was too real to be a ghost.

  I would scream, my parents would run in, and then they would get mad at me for lying. I tried to explain that he escaped out the window, but they said he couldn’t without a ladder.

  Last night I was too groggy to scream, and he got halfway down the trellis before my parents came to rescue me.

  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

  Traffic Stop

  by D.J. Elton

  It’s a small grey room with six mattresses on the floor and flimsy bamboo dividers. Smells like vomit, cigarettes and sweat. I am supposed to rest, replenish my strength for the later 8pm to 3am shift. So deadened, yet I’m surviving with a robotic determination. It’s my lingering strength.

  A customer who I trust broke the news yesterday. “There’s to be a raid”. He whispered, eyes darting like peas rolling. “The feds have an eye on this place, these smugglers, how they operate.”

  Of course, he is scared too, but has sworn it will happen within three days. My freedom.

  D.J. ELTON writes fiction and poetry, and is currently studying writing and literature which is improving her work in unexpected ways. She spends a lot of time in northern India and should probably live there, however there is much to be done in Melbourne, so this is the home base. She has meditated daily for the past 35 years and has worked in healthcare for equally as long, so she’s very happy to be writing, zoning in and out of all things literary.

  Twitter: @DJEltonwrites

  Easy Money

  by David Bowmore

  In 1962, all we needed was bottle and guns big enough to scare the Holy Shite out of everyone you pointed them at.

  Imagine; it’s mid-afternoon. Pull up outside the bank, leaving the engine running. If they have a guard, he’s usually near the door; hit him as hard as you can in the face with the butt of the gun.

  “Everyone on the ground.”

  When they’re down, “Nobody fuckin’ move.”

  Your mate is pointing the business end of a sawn-off in the face of a teller.

  “All the money, now.”

  Within three minutes, you’re back in the car.

  Easy.

  DAVID BOWMORE has lived here, there and everywhere, but now lives in Yorkshire with his wonderful wife and a small white poodle. He has worn many hats in his time; head chef, teacher and landscape gardener. His first collection of short stories ‘The Magic of Deben Market’ is available from Clarendon House.

  Website: davidbowmore.co.uk

  Facebook: davidbowmoreauthor

  Blackout

  by Brian Rosenberger

  His fingertips resembled raisins. The faucet turned off, he dried his hands, and returned to his cubicle. He was among the first arrivals, the early birds, responsible for morning deliveries. He powered on his computer. He realised he didn’t remember the commute, only the exit, the parking lot, and the elevator. Then and now, a blank. Miles and minutes lost. Not the first time. He searched the internet for news. Between the traffic and the weather, there was a report of yet another hit and run, updated to fatality. No witnesses.

  He started typing in numbers, the news already forgotten.

  BRIAN ROSENBERGER lives in a cellar in Marietta, GA (USA) and writes by the light of captured fireflies. He is the author of As the Worms Turns and three poetry collections. He is also a featured contributor to the Pro-Wrestling literary collection, Three-Way Dance, available from Gimmick Press.

  Facebook: HeWhoSuffers

  Quench

  by D.M. Burdett

  I hear footsteps!

  My heart pounds like the Slipnot drummer, sweat tickles my forehead. I hold my breath, trying to figure out where they’re coming from, how close they are. My eyes dart around deserted streets.

  Sidestepping into an alley, I wait for the footfalls to pass by.

  Teetering on stilettos, she never even had chance to let out a cry. My hand covers her mouth, my arm encircles her neck, and I drag her into the shadows.

  The blade slices through her pulse as Joey Jordison’s encore plays in my heart. Leaving clues, I lick crimson from her throat.

  D.M. BURDETT initially roamed as an army brat, but now lives in Australia where she spends her days avoiding drop bears and killer spiders. She has published a Sci-Fi series, has short stories in various anthologies, and has published two children’s series. She is currently working on the first book in a dystopian series.

  Website: www.dmburdett.com

  Facebook: DMBurdett

  False Moves

  by Andrew Anderson

  She came out with her hands up, as I had asked. My gun stayed trained on her as she stepped out of the door and into the street.

  “Keep your hands raised and walk towards the car. Put your hands on the roof and don’t move.”

  I approached her cautiously, getting my cuffs ready. I patted her for weapons, but she had none that I could find.

  Taking her arm to place in the cuffs, it came away at the shoulder. As I stood holding the false arm, she escaped.

  They should really teach us parkour at the police academy.

  ANDREW ANDERSON is a full-time civil servant, dabbling in writing music, poetry, screenplays and short stories in his limited spare time, when not working on building himself a fort made out of second-hand books. He lives in Bathgate, Scotland with his wife, two children and his dog.

  Twitter: @soorploom

  An Innocent Man

  by C.L. Williams

  “He’s been locked up and is now on death row!” the police chief tells everyone as he congratulates the officers responsible.

  The truth is, the guy on death row is not the culprit. In an exchange of shots between a cop and the real culprit, the real culprit was shot and killed. The guy locked up is just some homeless man at the wrong place, wrong time. The chief thinks someone being locked up will help morale among the locals.

  There won’t be anyone causing harm anymore, but little do the locals know, we’re about to kill an innocent man.

  C.L. WILLIAMS is an independent author from central Virginia. He has written eight poetry books, four novellas, one novel, and a contributor to multiple anthologies, with the most recent appearance being an all-ages anthology titled Temoli from Thazbook. His most recent poetry book, The Paradox Complex, features the poem “Sad Crying Clown” that is now a video on YouTube directed by Matthew Mark Hunter of MMH Productions. C.L. Williams is currently working on his first sci-fi book, an all-ages book titled Novo: Away from Earth. When not writing, C.L. Williams is reading and sharing the work of other independent authors.

  Facebook: writer434

  Twitter: @writer_434

  The Returned

  by Zoey Xolton

  David stood at his front door, frozen. The door was ajar. Someone is inside. On edge, he crept in, arming himself with a golf club. The familiar dron
e of the T.V. reached his ears; a packet of chips lay discarded on the couch. Who the Hell is in my house? Through the living room, he peered around the doorframe, and into the kitchen.

  He was sprung.

  “Hi hon! You’re back from work early. Everything alright?” asked his wife around a mouthful of crisps, beer in hand.

  David’s heart raced. Everything alright?

  Lizzie had died in a car accident months ago.

  ZOEY XOLTON is an Australian Speculative Fiction writer, primarily of Dark Fantasy, Paranormal Romance and Horror. She is also a proud mother of two and is married to her soul mate. Outside of her family, writing is her greatest passion. She is especially fond of short fiction and is working on releasing her own themed collections in future.

  Website: www.zoeyxolton.com

  A Death in the Mainframe

  by Stuart Conover

  Twain had been murdered.

  There hadn’t been a murder in API City since before the war.

  It wasn’t just that there had been a murder, Sym knew Twain.