Stories from
July, 2012

The priest respects his parish more than ritual, so he no longer intones “world without end.” Not after what he saw in the Vatican vault.

Chad Greene is a profoundly lapsed Catholic.

She asked her Facebook friends for their home addresses, so she could send invitations, some at least, for the funeral.

Evert Asberg envies me, wants to be me or even thinks he’s me. Anyway, he sleeps with my wife.

The clerk had just finished folding a sweater when a woman grabbed it and shook it out, holding it up to the air as if it were her husband.

Charles Rafferty directs the MFA program at Albertus Magnus College.

Grief gives course to her compass, and she finds her mother, after five months, in a Craigslist ad looking for a new daughter.

L. Lambert Lawson blogs, tweets, and edits Kazka Press.

“Knock knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“Cut the crap,” said the wolf. “You know it’s me.”

So Little Red Riding Hood opened the door.

David Galef publishes far too much for his own good.

I looked into her eyes and something was wrong. They were too glassy, too hard. This was not my daughter. Still, I said nothing.

Christian Martin writes sci-fi twitter stories and geek poetry @PixelatedGuy.

She told me once that she thought cars on a road sounded like the ocean. She always was the type to just dive in.

Katherine La Mantia hates tea and watches too much BBC.

The flow was lost in translation, but it didn’t matter. It was just another ransom note.

Helena Högestätt has previously been published on Nanoismer.

He leaves before she wakes. His last girlfriend blushed when they made love. Now the other beds seem cold.

Chuck Von Nordheim relies on the kindness of strangers in Dayton, Ohio.

A cloud covered the sky in breathtaking pace. Apocalypse? I started to run. A wind was rising. Raindrops fell when I entered the brothel.

Evert Asberg envies me, wants to be me or even thinks he’s me. Anyway, he sleeps with my wife.