Bloodbath by Stephen Goodlad
In the corner of the garden stands a stone plinth supporting a stone bowl. The
birds like to gather to wash; a shared oasis, common territory in the summer heat;
they flutter and preen. My cat waits unseen in the shadows and pounces the
moment they are in their element.
No Longer Mine by Amy B. Moreno
I stalked the garden; skinny ribs hunting afternoon black birds, without a warning
I pushed myself up against the patio doors, pink nose flaring with questions – ‘Who
lives here now?’
My tail twitched, I watched, waited for a chance.
I slipped inside, looking for home, but they had gone.
Bloodbath by Emma Rainsford
The sound of lightning cracked through the silence almost drowning out the din of
the crowd hammering down Lady Clarissa’s door. Lounging in her claw footed bath
sipping a red liquid from an ornate goblet, Clarissa chuckled darkly. One way or
another, there was going to be a bloodbath tonight.
Clean Break by Ivan Skilling
Seven years of being monitored in this prison of an apartment. No more. He was my
husband, not my warden. I dragged my bag out the door, slammed it, and glared
into the doorbell camera. Knowing that he was watching from his phone, I flipped
him the bird. Take that.
Clean Break by Andrew Ball
That was it, then. All over. The future looked bleak, stretching out interminably
without access to my monthly fix, my addiction. What was there left in life now that
was gone? Why should I bother to get out of bed in the morning? The Naughty
Forty just wasn’t the same.
No Son of Mine by Ivan Skilling
My son is strong. He ignores baseless rumors about him. He's not swayed by the
snickers and taunts. He knows those messages on the Internet aren't real. So this
body below our building can't be him. My son wouldn't commit suicide over
So why did you do it, son?
Table for One by Vera West
Past the hostess, was a cozy table occupied by a man and my wife. They sat side by
side, uncomfortably close. His lips brushed against her ear; her cheeks flushed
blush. The hostess asked if I needed a table for one. I pointed to where my party
was already seated.
Table for One Jonathan Hunter
I liked travelling alone, people annoyed me. As a kid took the last buffet sausage I
sighed. Not looking I slipped over and a pain shot through my leg. I couldn’t move.
“I’m fine” I vented at a concerned waitress.
“Just fetch me if you need a hand” she smiled.
Table for One Marian Myers
Are those the saddest words heard in a bustling restaurant? My words for the last
ten years. No intimacies shared over romantic dinners. No whispered jokes. No
spilled secrets. Only the silent meals. All because I am the table in the corner, fit
only to be the table for one.
Table for One by Lorna Ye
“Sorry. It’s a table for one,” she said, avoiding his eager eyes, her tone as cold as
the iced tea in her hand. She’d rather keep the chair across the table vacant this
time. “Go home. Your wife’s waiting for you,” she added, taking a big sip of her tea.
Garden of Bones by Lorna Ye
The rain washes over the garden of bones, purifying the whiteness of their hard
surface, brushing off darkened bloodstains. Bones burst and grow like bamboos,
making crackling sounds with each sudden thrust. Along with the rhythm,
numerous souls are singing, laughing, and cheering for the foretaste of their new
Issue 6 & 7
The Stories & Poems
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