Short Stories
| Title | Author | Copyright | Body |
|---|---|---|---|
| Carrier of Death | Victor Phan | 2009 |
Frantic hands swam inside of the leather bag. They removed a long black cloak and laid it on the workbench. The hands smoothed out the cloak and caressed it lovingly. The hands went into the bag again and this time they found an old sickle. The sickle blade was brown and burgundy with rust. One hand squeezed the leather hilt of the iron sickle until the knuckles turned white. The other hand ran its thumb along the edge of the blade until tainted blood was drawn. A tremor of ecstasy quaked through the bleeding hand as the blood was sucked from the dripping wound. |
| GoodEats | C.P. Jones | 2009 |
"C'mon girl! Why do you spend so much time putting make-up
on? It don't make no difference anyhow, you know that.”
Frannie’s mother yells at her through the bathroom door.
"She's right" Frannie speaks aloud to the mirror "it really
doesn't make a difference." ...view |
| The Perfect Girl | Victor Phan | 2006 |
I. The room was dark and silent. A small boy lied trembling as he listened to the sounds of the footsteps approaching. Each footfall made his heart beat faster. Johnny retreated into his sheet cocoon as the stomps got louder and louder. His tears left wet tracks down his cheeks, pooling into his pillow. The fear was intense. He begged for someone to save him, but he knew deep down no one ever does. Little Johnny had suffered through this many times over the past two years. This was one of those things he would never get used to, no matter how many times it happened. <!--break--> The sound of the footsteps became deafening. Johnny’s eyes were glued to the band of light creeping in under the doorway. The footsteps then became shadows in the doorway light. They paused at the door—...view |
| Thrillseekers | Victor Phan | 2004 |
Jenny had always been around the wrong crowd. Throughout her adolescence she had been drawn to trouble makers like a moth to the flame. She didn’t know why this was so, nor did she care. She was content with the unpredictability of it all. Jenny could have been a good girl and hung out with all the boring guys, but where was the fun in that? She liked being with the mischievous ones because there was always a rush. Jenny felt the beer beginning to get the best of her motor functions. The beer warmed her stomach on this freezing night. She lay on top of the dirt staring up at the bright full moon. She had never gazed into the moon as she did in that moment. Her body relaxed as she stretched out her arms and breathed in the cold air. Cathy sat down right next to Jenny and handed her another beer. As she took the poison from Cathy, she felt how smooth Cathy’s...view |
| Now Playing | Christopher Stires | 2000 |
As Tierney crossed the cineplex lobby, she spotted Gage near the concession counter, waving his red gaming tickets at her, and she was stunned, because it was only yesterday that she’d last seen him and he’d been fine then. Today, however, twenty-five hours later, his full head of dark hair was feathered with gray, more gray than brown, and deep furrows half-mooned under his beautiful eyes. “What’s happened to you?” Tierney asked, reaching him. “When you called in sick at the lab, I thought it was so you could be first in line for the contest.” Gage smiled, but his handsome features remained haunted and drawn. “It was and I’ve never felt better, Tier. I was here when the theater opened. Second in line. I’ve seen the movie three times now....view |
| At The Dessert Palace | Christopher Stires | 2000 |
AT THE DESSERT PALACE by Christopher Stires “Lethal injection.” Michael, his head reeling--his body convulsing, staggered across the barroom as if he’d been on a three-day bender. “We don’t mix those trendy concoctions here,” the bartender replied, his long face helmeted in a shadow. The man who had spoken glanced at his two companions standing with him at the chiseled, black-marble bar then turned toward the bartender. “I wasn’t talking about a drink, ol’ stick.” Michael struggled onto a barstool, nearly toppling twice to the plank floor, as his legs jellied underneath him. Sweat peppered his face. His right arm was numb and his heart jackhammered inside his chest. He expected the organ to explode out of his body at any moment and fireball across the room. In the far distance, he heard Melissa yelling his name. Her calls slowly... ...fad... ...e... ......view |