Stories from
November, 2011

Up from the vast, unknowable deep it came, an ancient, tentacled horror now full upon the beach. “She broke my heart,” it said, and died.

Suzanne Palmer loves very short stories but doesn’t often write them.

We pretended there was some mix-up about the dates, but we knew. We knew the worthy had been taken. We knew how few of them there were.

R. Gatwood is concise.

There was a small hole in the hat, like a bullet hole, that Jensen refused to get fixed. It had belonged to his father.

Christopher James writes stories.